


Alphabet Soup

by maq_moon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Romance, Self-Harm, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-12
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 19:32:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 56,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maq_moon/pseuds/maq_moon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How can a cold bowl of soup change the world?  Ginny's about to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> These are carbon copies of the chapters posted on FFN, and as such have ANs relating specifically to people or reviews given on that site. Disregard them ^^
> 
> Apparently AO3 has trouble with my files and all of my italicized text has been made normal. This could cause some confusion, as I used italics a lot in this story. Everything in the first person that is outside quotation marks was italicized and is Ginny's internal monologue.

Disclaimer: You're only going to see this once, right here. When I look at my birth certificate, the name on it is not 'J.K. Rowling'. You should therefore assume that I am not her and that I am just borrowing her characters. I own nothing but the plot (which I hope is original) and the very few OCs used herein.

NB: When the names of Muggles are misspelled, it is intentional.

Updates will occur weekly. This is 25 chapters in total.

Thanks to pop-pop-bananas. It was her story "The Letter P" (now called "Rewind") that gave me this idea.

Alphabet Soup

Prologue

D-A-D

Slurp.

F-R-E-D

Slurp.

T-O-N-K-S

Slurp.

H-A-G-

"Ginny, will you stop that already?" Molly snapped, scrubbing dinner plates laboriously.

R-I-D

Slurp.

Ginny wasn't paying much attention to anything but her lunch. She didn't even notice that strands of her long red hair were floating in her alphabet soup. She wasn't even eating, really; the letters were all that mattered. She spooned them into the names of dead friends and relatives and then swallowed them loudly. It should have been depressing; it wasn't.

Ginny didn't feel much anymore. Everything she knew was gone. She and the remaining Weasleys had moved out of The Burrow and settled in Kent, where they lived as Muggles. It was far too dangerous to do magic now. He always knew when and where a spell was cast. He would send someone to collect the caster; usually the person would be killed. The Ministry was completely gone; there were no Aurors to protect those He didn't think deserved to live.

Being a Muggle was harder than any of the living Weasleys could have imagined. Even Arthur and his delusions about the Muggle world would have been welcome. Eckletricity was terribly confusing to Molly. She wished she had taken an interest in her late husband's plugs. Scrubbing all of the dishes by hand, toweling them dry, putting them in the cheap cabinets, peeling potatoes and not being able to Vanish the rubbish, folding all of the laundry, using "deterrent" or some such to clean the clothes- this was the life of Mrs. Weasley.

The Weasley children were not doing well, either. Charlie was safe, for the time being, in Romania. Bill and Fleur had to abandon Shell Cottage; Molly didn't know where they were, or if they were even still alive. Percy, George, and Ron lived in Kent as well. They had to get Muggle jobs; this was particularly hard on Percy. He had been on his way up in the Ministry; now he was a file clerk for a small haberdashery. He sulked about the small house, rarely speaking. George, trying to retain his good-spirits in the memory of his twin, demanded to be called "Your Holeyness", as Fred had once called him. His co-workers at Pret thought him mad but were kind enough to him. Ron was nearly as depressed as Percy. He couldn't see Hermione: she had joined her parents in Australia. He couldn't see Harry regularly, as Harry was moved from place to place as often as possible for his own protection. He took tickets at the local cinema but was quickly demoted for not being cheerful enough. Mopping the sticky spots of the floors between films took up most of his time. The family had little money and an entirely too small house. This one couldn't be magically enlarged; He would know.

Then there was Ginny. She sat, spelling dead words in her soup, and helped her mother with the housework. This should have been her NEWT year at Hogwarts, but she couldn't go there anymore. Severus Snape was Headmaster there. Fred had died there. He was in charge of the school. Ginny Weasley, a blood traitor, would most certainly not be welcome at Hogwarts.

D-A

Slurp.

If only they had learned more Defense… no, nothing could stop Him, not since Dumbledore's death. Not even the Elder Wand had been able to stop Him. It couldn't lose a duel, true, but that didn't mean that it always won. The Battle of Hogwarts should have ended it all, one way or the other. It was a stalemate. Harry Potter had resorted to the Killing Curse, something no one ever thought would happen. He managed to deflect it. It had hit Him square in the chest. He should have died, but He just vanished on the spot and reappeared the next day, as powerful as ever.

Ginny's head shot up as she heard the door open and promptly slam.

"Ronald?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Got sacked," Ron mumbled as he skulked towards the room he shared with Percy and George. "Want to be alone."

Mrs. Weasley sighed heavily. "What more can happen to this family?" she asked no one. She wrung the dish towel dry and sat at the little kitchen table with Ginny. "Your hair is in your soup, sweetie."

Ginny shrugged and tried to find more letters; she had eaten most of them.

"Oh, nobody's even trying anymore!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. "Witches and Wizards all over the country and on the continent are living like this and I doubt they all sulk so much. Get your hair out of your damn soup, Ginny!"

Ginny started, spilling some soup on her trousers. The front bits of her hair dripped onto the cheap table. She squeezed her hair to rid it of the cold broth. Ginny stood and started to pace. She looked at the family clock. Nine hands. Seven of them sat on the words "Mortal Peril". Two hands no longer had pictures and hovered over a word that hadn't been there until recently: "Dead".

"I'm going for a walk," Ginny stated. She twisted the rusty door handle and left the house before Molly could respond. She walked across town to a small park and sat beneath the tallest tree. She watched children flying kites and families having picnic lunches. Her face flushed with envy. She wanted her life back, those carefree days when He was still gone, when she could play Exploding Snap with Fred and have late-night chats with Hermione.

There's no use dwelling on the past, she told herself. She sniffled and wiped a tear from her cheek. There's no use dwelling on the past… but I can't help it.

"Stupid Voldemort," she whispered, unable to stop herself quickly enough. She clapped her hands over her mouth and squeezed shut her eyes, praying that He hadn't heard, that no Death Eater would come murder her.

As she was snatched up by unfamiliar arms and Apparated alongside the Death Eater, she pictured her soup.

T-A-B-O-O

She had said His name, and now she would pay.

Next Time:

"Bellatrix had the most wonderful idea. We intend to use the Cruciatus Curse on her while she's still Petrified. With your permission, of course."

Reviews are always appreciated and always get a response. Please criticize to your heart's content!


	2. A

Hey, you're back! Hi!

Like it? Review! Don't like it? Tell me why in a review! I love criticism.

Alphabet Soup

A

Appearances

It was an odd sensation, being Petrified. The sensation was made even more strange for Ginny because her eyes were open and she was suspended above a lavishly decorated dining table, spinning parallel to it.

Table- turkey. Wall- portrait of Salazar Slytherin. Ceiling- chandelier. Wall- window. Table- white linen tablecloth. Wall- gold frame of portrait. Ceiling- flickering candles. Wall- window. Table- wine glasses. Wall- Slytherin laughing. Ceiling- shadows. Wall- window…

She needed to vomit. Closing her eyes did nothing for the dizziness. Bile burned her throat with each turn. She had seen Fred splurt butterbeer from his nose more than once. Was she going to throw up from her nose? She would die if she did, she decided. Breathing through her nose was all she could do at the moment. If she did get sick through her nose, she thought, it might at least hit some of the Death Eaters dining on their fancy china and drinking what was probably the finest wine in the world.

Portrait, chandelier, window, table…

"Nothing like a little entertainment over dinner, eh?" one Death Eater laughed.

"Muggles aren't much use for anything but sport," a voice said. She recognized this one. It was Lucius Malfoy. He was sitting at the head of the table, platinum hair pulled back into a ponytail so as to prevent it from falling into his food. If she could have, Ginny would have snorted. Lucius Malfoy's hair would never fall into a bowl of cold soup. He killed innocent people and was like a king holding court. He didn't have to worry about such trivial things as death and loss. He would never be bent low over a table, lost in thought, and have that pretty hair of his stained by meager foodstuffs.

Portrait, chandelier, window, table…

"I wonder," a woman drawled, "if anyone has ever used the Cruciatus Curse on someone who has been Petrified."

"Bellatrix, your mind works in beautiful ways," Lucius answered. "We'll have to find out after pudding. It may not be as satisfying without the screams, you know."

"It's still worth a try," Bella responded, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "Little Muggle, do you want to be our dolly tonight?" She was using a mock baby voice, the same one she had used in the Department of Mysteries almost two years ago. Ginny wanted to roll her eyes. First of all, she wasn't a child. Secondly, she wasn't a Muggle. Malfoy knew that but called her a Muggle anyway. Did none of the other Death Eaters recognize her?

Portrait, chandelier, window, table…

"He's just arrived," came a fervent whisper, "and he's in a good mood." The Death Eaters all stood and tried to smarten themselves for the arrival of their Lord. Ginny wondered if he had ever been in a good mood before. Could the Devil have any positive feelings not brought on by the pain of others?

Portrait, chandelier, window, table…

The arrival of Lord Voldemort was made apparent by the bowing of every Death Eater Ginny could see. The warm dining hall took on a chill that had nothing to do with temperature.

"Stop sniveling," Voldemort commanded. His voice was different than the last time she had heard it. It wasn't so high-pitched. Odd.

Portrait (dumbfounded), chandelier (flickering), window (dark), table (shaking)…

"I said stop sniveling," Voldemort sneered. "Look upon me, my faithful servants. Look at what I have become. Look at the face that will bring the entire world to its knees."

Ginny couldn't see Voldemort, but judging by the murmurs and whispers from the Death Eaters, he must look extremely different.

"Oh, My Lord," Bellatrix said, awe in her voice. "My Lord, you look so…"

"Young?" he supplied. He surveyed his surroundings. "Another banquet, Lucius?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Ah, and entertainment as well," he said, pointing at Ginny.

Portrait, chandelier, window, table…

"A bit of Muggle torture," Lucius smiled. "Bellatrix had the most wonderful idea. We intend to use the Cruciatus Curse on her while she's still Petrified. With your permission, of course."

Voldemort examined the piece of Muggle entertainment from a distance. He frowned. "It looks sick," he said. "We shouldn't torture it until it's feeling well."

"Excellent idea, Master-"

"Shut up, Malfoy." He walked closer to the Petrified Ginny.

Portrait, chandelier, window, table…

Tom, chandelier, window, table…

Ginny wanted to scream. This was most certainly not Lord Voldemort. This was Tom Marvolo Riddle, maybe a few years older than Ginny remembered him being in the diary Horcrux. Voldemort looked more than a little shocked when he saw Ginny's face, recognized that long red hair. He immediately stopped her spinning but kept her Petrified and levitating.

Avery's Slip

Voldemort smiled. It wasn't the snake-like stretching of muscles that the Death Eaters recognized; they didn't know what this smile meant. He certainly looked pleased.

"Who brought us this little Muggle this evening?"

"Lucius did," a man answered. Ginny recognized his voice as that of Avery. "Brought her in this afternoon."

"Did he really?" Voldemort practically sung. "Lucius, my old friend, you have done well."

Lucius smiled. "I do what I can to please My Lord."

"You have also lied to Lord Voldemort," he said placidly. "You know this girl isn't a Muggle, Lucius. You've known her for years."

Confused muttering filled the room.

"Shut up," Voldemort commanded, his voice stern. "Not a Muggle, Lucius. Tell my servants who this is."

"It's…" he trembled, "it's Arthur Weasley's daughter."

"A pureblood?" Bellatrix gasped. "You would have us torture and kill a pureblood?"

"Precisely, dear Bellatrix," Voldemort replied.

"Master, but she's a blood traitor, she befriends Muggle-borns, she-"

"Lucius," Voldemort interrupted calmly with his new smile, "don't you remember our little rule about blood traitors? Hm? Why don't you recite it for us. Paraphrase, even."

"All purebloods, even blood traitors, are to be kept alive so as to further our efforts to create an entirely pure-blooded Wizarding society," Lucius answered, trembling.

"Correct," Voldemort patronized. "Now, if you know the commands of Lord Voldemort, why did you directly disobey them?"

Lucius couldn't answer.

"And it's little Ginny Weasley, an old friend of mine. Avery, you have done well in providing information. Lord Voldemort rewards those who are faithful," he smiled, "and punishes those who are not. Lucius, come with me. We have some business to discuss." Lucius's face was ashen. "Oh, and Bellatrix-"

"Yes, My Lord?"

"Take the spells off of little Ginny Weasley and put her somewhere safe, somewhere with no windows." Ginny's heart pounded. What was he planning to do with her?

"Yes, Lord."

Bella muttered "Finite" and grabbed Ginny by the wrist as soon as she landed on the table. Now her whole body was covered with food, not just her hair and trousers. While Bellatrix dragged Ginny through different rooms, a thumping noise was heard, then a scream. Against her better judgment, Ginny looked at Bella. "That'll be Avery," she said. There was no compassion in her voice. "One of those closest to Malfoy probably saw him- ah- slip down the stairs. Idiots. The Dark Lord knows everything. Everything, 'little Ginny'. Whoever pushed Avery down those steps is going to get it just as bad as Malfoy."

She shoved Ginny into what seemed to be an empty pantry. "Nighty-night, sweetums," Bellatrix mocked. "If you're lucky, someone may get you out before you starve."

Exhausted but haunted, Ginny sat in a corner of the old pantry. Her eyes were thrilled to be closed, but she didn't dare sleep for fear of what might happen during the night. Once Malfoy's screams died down, she trembled and curled into a little ball. She cried herself to sleep. It was fitful. She dreamed of the day, of her soup. Instead of spelling the names of good people, good friends, she spelled the names of those she hated.

S-N-A-P-E

L-E-S-T-R-A-N-G-E

M-A-L-F-O-Y

She drank her soup directly from the bowl, swallowing the vegetables without chewing. The bowl wasn't empty when she had finished. Three letters were stuck to the bottom of the bowl, and try as she might, she couldn't get them off. Someone must have put a Permanent Sticking Charm on these particular letters.

T-M-R

She woke with a start, shivering and clammy. She had been taken for saying 'Voldemort', but Voldemort was gone. There was only Tom, but a Tom who, beneath the beautiful façade, was a pale, freakish snake.

She hated him now as much as she had loved him when she was eleven.

Next Time: "Muggles told you that Death Eaters kidnapped Ginny, right in front of them?"

Now that you've read, please review.

The next update will be seven days hence.


	3. B

Hi again! How y'all doing? Everything okay? Feelin' groovy? Here's hoping!

WARNING: this chapter contains graphic descriptions of self-mutilation. If you find such things icky, I suggest skipping the second part of this chapter entirely.

Also, herein the worst OC in the world is featured: Racist Mirror.

Enjoy & please review!

Alphabet Soup

B

Brotherly Love

Ginny had been gone for almost two hours. Molly was beginning to worry. It wasn't unusual for Ginny to storm out and take walks, but she usually came home within about fifteen minutes. Maybe she had gone into town, Molly rationalized. Maybe she went to the cinema. But what if- what if she had gotten hurt? What if she was lost? What if, god forbid, someone had recognized her and… No, Molly resolved. She wouldn't think about that. It was virtually impossible, after all.

Virtually…

"Ronald," Molly called, straightening her face. She didn't want Ron to worry as well.

Ron skulked into the kitchen, shoulders slumped. He was holding his favorite book, Flying with the Canons. "Yeah?"

"Have you seen Ginny recently? She's been gone quite a while is all."

"No," Ron replied. "Last time I saw her she was still washing her hair with soup." Molly smiled. Small blessings, she thought, were all that kept her going. "She's probably just sitting by that yew tree in the park like she always does when she's upset."

"Oh," Molly sighed, relieved. "Would you mind going to fetch her?"

"Maybe she just wants to be alone or something," Ron answered, turning to leave the kitchen.

"I'm going to pretend that you didn't say that, Ron Weasley," Molly snapped. Her voice was raising; her temper flared a lot more than it did before they had to leave The Burrow. "You are going to go find your sister this instant, understand? Go, go," she urged, ushering him toward the door with a frenzied hand gesture. He sat his book on the table and left, scowling.

It wasn't a long walk to the park, but Ron was irritated all the same. He wanted to be with the Canons, watching them fly through the pages like orange blurs, and pretending that life was as it should be. He wanted to be in training to become an Auror with Harry. He would even be happy to get bubotuber pus squirted in his face. Instead he was living like a stupid Muggle in stupid Kent looking for his stupid sister.

Well, Ginny wasn't under that damn tree. He didn't dare return to the house without her; his mother would be furious. Some children were playing nearby, watched closely by their parents. Ron walked towards the adults and said, "'scuse me, but have you seen my sister? She's got red hair."

The parents looked suspiciously at him. He was one of those new people, the ones who never smiled. They were an odd family. All of them had bright red hair and spoke nonsense, talking about magic wands and other nonsense when they thought no one was listening. They didn't even know how to do simple things, like change a light bulb or count change. There was something funny about that new family. They were so busy staring at him that they seemed to have forgotten his question.

"So… have you seen her? Mum's getting worried."

"No, I haven't seen her," a Muggle man answered, "but my son and I just arrived a few moments ago."

"Is she that pretty girl who sits by the big tree a lot?" one of the women asked. Ron nodded excitedly. "She was here earlier, watching the kids fly their kites, I think."

"Did you happen to see where she went when she left?" Ron asked.

"She went with a very strange man," the woman replied. Ron raised his eyebrows. "I only know because there was a loud noise and I turned to look. The man was wearing a …dress of some kind. I watched my children again, but then there was another loud noise. I turned and saw the tree, but not your sister. She must be able to run very fast; it was almost like she just disappeared!"

"Uh… thanks," Ron said. He knew what had happened, what must have happened. "Will you, er, if you see Ginny, can you send her home?"

The woman nodded. "Good luck," she said insincerely as she glanced at the kites in the sky once more.

Ron sprinted home. He threw open the door and screamed, "They've got her, Mum! Ginny's been taken by Death Eaters!"

Molly blanched but remained outwardly calm. "That's impossible. Honestly, Ron, I don't know where you got that idea, but it's a terrible lie to tell!"

"It's true! The Muggles saw it!"

"Muggles told you that Death Eaters kidnapped Ginny, right in front of them?" Molly asked incredulously. Her stomach was twisting.

"They didn't say 'Death Eaters Apparated with your little sister', but they described what happened!" Ron said, speaking so quickly that Molly was having trouble keeping up with his words. "She said there was a loud pop and a man in robes- she called it a dress- came and she looked away but there was another noise and she looked and Ginny and the man were gone!"

Molly quickly looked at her clock. Ginny's hand was still on "Mortal Peril".

"What are we going to do, Mum?"

Molly began to cry. It couldn't be true- there was no possible way- but she felt like it was the truth. "What can we do, Ronald? Nothing. Maybe when Harry and some of the others get here we can… save her."

"Why would they have taken her, though? How could they know we're here? Why take just Ginny? Unless…"

"She's not that stupid," Molly stated firmly.

"But what if she did say his name?"

"She can't have," Molly said, more to herself than to Ron. "We'll have to pack up and move again…"

"What if Ginny comes home? She won't have any idea where we are!"

"Ronald, if we stay here, then my other children will be in danger as well! Do you want P-Percy to end up l-like Fred?" she wept. "G-Ginny will know what to do whe-when she c-comes b-back… She- she's resourceful…"

"Mum, I'm not going anywhere without Ginny. I won't lose another sibling to You-Know-Who!" Ron shouted.

"Do you think I want to lose any more of this family to him? Ronald, this is the only way I know how to keep the rest of you safe! Go pack your things, no arguing. You can help Percy and George when they get back…"

As Ron left, Molly put her head in her hands. When Percy and George get back; what if 'when' suddenly turned into 'if'? Silently she prayed that wherever Ginny was, she was safe. She had to be safe. Harry would save her. Harry had loved her once; he wouldn't let her die.

Blood

Ginny woke up. She wasn't in the tiny pantry anymore, but a small sitting room. She had been tossed onto an antique couch with old red upholstery that could have done with replacing. Sighing, Ginny examined the rest of the room. No windows- well, that was to be expected. There was light, but no visible source. A mirror hung on one of the walls. Its frame was tarnished and Ginny had the feeling that if she were to take it from the wall there would be a mirror-shaped light spot on the dingy wall. There would be no sense in trying to open the door; with her first quick glance, she noticed that the knob had been removed.

She was alone with her thoughts.

She didn't want to be alone with her thoughts.

She looked in the mirror. She didn't look as bad as she thought she would. Her hair was more than a little disheveled but she didn't have bruises on her face or bags under her eyes. "Alright, Ginny," she said aloud, "it could be worse. They didn't kill you, right?" She tore at the tangles in her long hair.

"No, but don't count on staying so comfortable," the mirror answered.

"What?" Ginny asked incredulously. "This is hardly comfortable."

"The last person here was dragged out by the ears and they said he'd be going somewhere that would make Azkaban seem like a holiday."

Ginny paled. "Were they bluffing?"

"How should I know? I'm stuck in here, too," the mirror snapped. "Your hair needs a good brushing. Pulling at it with your little fingers isn't going to fix anything… not that it'll matter for long."

"If you're just going to try to frighten me you can shut up," Ginny replied. She had torn a chunk of red strands from her head. "I don't need crap from a dusty old mirror."

"Old? Dusty?!" the mirror yelled. "I'll have you know that I'm in fine shape, thank you very much!"

Ginny wrote the words "wash me" on the mirror's surface with her finger and smirked.

"That's enough! If I could, I'd bite off that hand of yours! Unless you're a Mudblood like some of the others were; I wouldn't ever be able to rid my… figurative mouth of the taste!"

"I'm not Muggle-born," Ginny said sharply, "but I don't feel like talking to a mirror with a superiority complex." She took her hands from her hair, made a fist, and punched the mirror, shattering it.

"Damn," she muttered. "That certainly wasn't the best idea." She looked at the broken bits of mirror on the floor and noticed a steady dripping of blood onto the shards. Looking over her right hand, Ginny saw that her knuckles were shredded rather badly. The skin had peeled off in a few places and bits of glass were stuck here and there in her fingers. She just looked at her hand.

It didn't really hurt, per se. It certainly wasn't pleasant, but there was no real pain to speak of. Her hand felt almost… numb, she thought. Odd, that. It was like her emotions, almost- what should be immensely painful she turned into a nagging ache. Maybe she could make the rest of her feel that way, too.

Picking up a piece of mirror with a few drops of her blood on it, Ginny sat on the tattered sofa. For a while she just looked at her eyes in the little shard of glass. Slowly she rolled up the leg of her jeans and moved the mirror toward her shin. Blankly she pushed a sharp corner through her creamy skin. It prickled a bit. She looked at her hand, the mirror, and her leg. She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and dragged the glass shard up to her knee. She let go a rasping breath when she opened her eyes. A jagged line of blood was slowly leaking out of her. It didn't hurt, really. She felt satisfied- proud, even. She was in charge in this little room. There were no Death Eaters to hurt her, there was no Mum to tell her to stop sulking, there was no Voldemort here. There was only Ginny M. Weasley to control what hurt her. She had the power.

She lifted the mirror again, jabbed it into the same shin, harder this time, and pulled. This line bled more than the first. "The first one is for Dad," she said, "and the second one is for Charlie. This-" she repeated the macabre gesture "-is for Bill."

"This is for Fred." her already distorted hand was clutching the glass so hard that it cut a new line into her palm.

"This," she shouted and tore more violently than ever, "is for the ones who are still alive." Her socks were turning crimson and getting soggy, but she didn't notice. "This," she screamed, tears finally falling from her eyes, "is for false hope!" She paused a moment, breath hitching. A tear fell from her cheek onto her leg and she yelped helplessly as she sobbed. She brought her hand to her head, not caring that her face was now stained with the blood of her anger. Her jeans had slipped below her knee. Whatever denim touched her skin soaked up blood like a sponge.

She dropped the mirror at long last and curled into a little ball on the worn sofa. Her eyes burned and breathing hurt, but somehow she managed to fall asleep again. As she slipped into the darkness beneath her eyelids, her last thought was that she should have made more lines- many more lines- in memory of every person Voldemort's schemes had ever hurt.

Good? Bad? Okay? Semi-neutral with a dash of crap? Not suckish? Let me know in a review! I respond to all signed reviews. Criticism is requested.

Next Time: "Hello, Ginny," Tom said with a smile.


	4. C

Good morning/ afternoon/ evening/ night! Still here? Rock on!

This is the shortest chapter in the whole bit (I think). Sorry.

'Kay! Please review!

Alphabet Soup

C

Conversations

Losing blood sucked, Ginny decided. Her jeans were glued to her leg and she was certain that if she tried to un-stick them that the slashes would re-open. Looking back, she thought that tearing apart her shin was probably not the best course of action; she felt numb and powerful in the moment, but now her leg just hurt.

Ginny's stomach growled. She poked it and muttered 'shut up'. There was positively nothing to do. She couldn't even fight with the racist mirror. All she had to entertain her were thoughts and memories; she didn't want those. So she sat, doing nothing, for a while. She didn't know how long.

And then the door opened, swinging inside. Ginny yelped and jumped, pushing herself into the corner of the old sofa. What if they had come to kill her? No; death was preferable to what she saw in the doorframe.

"Hello, Ginny," Tom said with a smile. He surveyed the little room. "You broke my mirror."

"It pissed me off," Ginny mumbled in reply. His seemingly calm temperament was rather unnerving; he could snap at any moment, Ginny knew.

Tom laughed. "I've always hated talking mirrors. What did it say to make you so angry?" Ginny looked down and suppressed a shudder. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "What did it say?" Tom repeated. His voice had an edge. Ginny knew better than to stay silent when Tom asked a question in that manner.

"It…" she began, "made fun of my hair, and then started saying bad things about… about… Muggle-borns, and how Death Eaters were going to kill me…"

Tom just laughed. Ginny bit her lip, angry and afraid. "No, Ginny, no one's going to kill you," he said, frowning, "unless you manage to do it."

"Oh," she replied, looking at her leg. "That's nothing. It doesn't even hurt."

"Then stand on it," he commanded. Ginny slowly stood, trying to put most of her weight on her left leg. It was no use; she cried out and began to fall almost as soon as she was standing properly. Tom caught her by the arm and pushed her back onto the blood-soaked sofa. "I thought so," he chuckled. He cocked his head to one side and stabbed her with his blue eyes.

"You're scared, little Ginny. Why?"

"Why?" she snapped angrily. "Maybe because I was kidnapped, turned into a dinner decoration, locked in a pantry and then moved into a tiny room with a prejudiced mirror, and told I'll be killed! Wouldn't that scare anyone, Tom?" She clapped her hand over her mouth instantly. She had just told off Lord Voldemort. They would kill her for sure now, not that it mattered. Most of her family was probably dead anyway.

Tom raised his eyebrows. "Still a spitfire, I see. If you were anyone else, Ginny, I'd have to punish you for speaking to me that way. As it is," he explained, pacing, "I have a bit of a soft spot regarding you. You almost brought me back, albeit unwillingly. That's not to say that you'll never be punished," he sternly amended. Ginny nodded fervently when he looked at her.

"You'll be here for quite some time, I'm afraid," he sighed. "We shall have to find you somewhere more comfortable to stay, of course. I can't have my guests being uncomfortable."

"Guest?" Ginny asked quietly.

"Oh, yes," Tom answered. He sat beside her on the old couch and folded his hands in his lap. "Didn't you hear what Malfoy said? Purebloods must be treated well, Ginny, if we are to be united and create more decent Wizards and Witches. Half-bloods will be gauged by their skill, and Mudbloods are as useless as Muggles; they'll have to be eliminated, I'm afraid. Don't look so frightened, Ginny! Your family is safe. You may be blood traitors, but such things need to be ignored for the sake of our kind's future."

"But you killed my dad and brother," she said slowly.

"Their deaths were unfortunate," Tom replied, "but they cannot be changed."

"But they were purebloods!" Ginny protested. Tom shot her a glare.

"They died, I believe, before I penned the law regarding blood status."

Ginny tightened her lips and balled her hands into fists. Her right hand shrieked in pain and began to bleed again. "When doesn't matter, Tom," she said through gritted teeth. "They're dead and it's because of you."

Tom looked at her raw hand and gently reached for it. Ginny flinched. "Don't worry," Tom whispered. He turned her hand so that he was looking at her palm. "You've made a real mess of yourself, haven't you? And it'll only get worse. Do you know why, Ginny?" She shook her head, eyes wide. "Because you insist on being childish," he hissed. Ginny screamed; Tom had clamped her hand as tightly as he could. Blood began to trickle from between his own fingers. "You're all grown up now, Ginny," he said, squeezing her hand ever harder with each seething word, "so act like it." When she felt like she would pass out from pain, Tom suddenly released her hand. He frowned when he saw her blood on his hands. "No doubt you have questions," he said with a charming smile. "If you're polite, I'll do my best to answer them."

Ginny hesitated. As she wrapped her sore hand in her shirt, she asked, "Who else in my family is dead?"

"No one. I told you, purebloods won't be killed."

"Yes, but I didn't know if maybe you killed- er, that is to say, if they died before you wrote that law." Ginny flushed red; she had almost said something she was sure would upset Tom.

"Nice save," he grinned. Ginny sighed, relieved.

"What about my friends? Are they okay?"

"Some of them are dead," Tom said in an offhand manner. "Some of them are out living their normal lives. Some of them are here."

"Where is 'here'?"

"I'm afraid I won't be telling you that." He smirked.

Ginny let her shoulders drop. She exhaled heavily and leaned her head back to rest on the old sofa. There was one question burning in her mind, but she dared not ask it. He may have said that she wouldn't be killed, but she knew that Tom Riddle was an excellent liar… and an equally good Legilimens.

"Go ahead and ask," he said with a slight smile. "The Ginny I knew wasn't cowardly."

She sniffed angrily. "The Ginny you knew didn't know who you were until it was too late."

"Does that mean I frighten you?" Tom asked, a dark gleam in his eyes.

"I didn't say that," Ginny answered defensively. They both knew that the answer was 'yes'.

"Well," Tom continued, waving his hand in an elegant gesture, "ask your question… unless you're not as brave as I thought."

She glared at him and pushed a strand of her long hair behind her ear. "Fine," she said as she internally yelling at the butterflies in her stomach. 'We are not afraid, stomach', she thought. "Well… I was kind of wondering why you're you and not You-Know-Who. I mean, I just saw you or You-Know-Who or whomever not long ago and he wasn't… you."

"Oh, no," Tom smiled, "that was me. Ugly thing, wasn't I?"

"Er… then why don't you look like him anymore?"

"It's a secret," Tom whispered, eyes twinkling playfully.

He stood and smoothed his trousers with his clean hand. "That's enough of that, don't you think? I really must be going now, Ginny. I've wasted enough time with you for today. I shall have to visit you from time to time; I confess myself nostalgic of your company."

He moved toward the door and waved a hand to open it. He stopped mid-stride to say, "I'll send in someone with murtlap essence and someone to take you to a nicer room; maybe one of your friends."

"Er, thanks, Tom," Ginny replied as she watched the door close behind him. She was puzzled; for the most part he had been nice- or as nice as Tom Riddle could get, at any rate. He was Tom… and he was You-Know-Who. She didn't understand and shook her head quizzically, waiting for someone to come.

Yes, I know it was short…

Reviews make me happy, so please gimme! Reviews given by those who are logged in are always answered. If you reviewed but weren't logged in, I couldn't reply to your review... so, THANKS to you folks!

See you next week!

Next Time: "Didn't you hear?" Ginny asked airily. "Daddy got in trouble for being mean to the Weaselette."


	5. D

Oh, you're back! *hugs* Good to see you again. I have another…

NB: In this chapter a rather… fascist concept is introduced. In fact, the concept is essentially identical to the Nazi Lebensborn complexes in WWII. I wish it was something stupid and contrived, but unfortunately such things did occur and there are some other Nazi references throughout the rest of the story, so… there's your warning. The previous statement should have implied this, but just in case: slight non-con will be a factor later on.

Ready, set, go!

Alphabet Soup

D

Draco

"I'm not having sex with you."

Ginny jumped, startled. The door seemed to open as soon as it had closed. She furrowed her brow, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water. "Malfoy?" she sputtered.

"No, I'm Father Christmas," Malfoy mocked. "And I'm not having sex with you."

"What the hell?" Ginny muttered. "What gave you the impression that I wanted to sleep with you?!"

"It doesn't matter what you want, or what I want- or don't want, in this case," Malfoy sneered. "Don't you know why the Dark Lord is keeping us here?"

"Because I'm a pureblood," Ginny answered with trepidation.

"Come on, Weaselette, make the connection," Draco said as he rolled his grey eyes.

"Tom said that we need more pureblood Wizards and Witches… Oh, god!"

"Took you long enough."

Ginny's cheeks flushed pink. "Well, if Tom thinks I'll have sex with you, he's crazier than I thought."

"That's the second time in twelve seconds that you've mentioned 'Tom'. I've been here for quite a while and haven't ever met anyone named Tom." Draco narrowed his eyes; he wasn't used to being left in the dark. He usually got every little piece of information from his father. Lucius was in trouble now, Draco remembered. He couldn't pass any knowledge that he didn't know.

"But… everyone here knows Tom!" Ginny protested. "Or… they think they do. No one really knows Tom, I guess…" Realization swept over her in a wave. No one else knew Voldemort's real name. Why, then, had he let her call him by his birth name? She wasn't anyone important, like Bellatrix or Avery. Curious. "Never mind. Maybe he didn't tell me his real name." The words gushed from her lips so quickly that Draco was immediately suspicious.

He looked Ginny in the eye and tried to sneak into her thoughts… His brain hit a wall.

"When did you learn to Occlude?" Draco asked archly.

"I've been Occluding since I was fourteen," Ginny answered smugly. "That's one of the benefits of having very talented older brothers: you can learn all of their skills and they're more than willing to teach their baby sister."

"From what I understand, your brothers weren't even clever enough to stay alive," Draco laughed.

Ginny's eyes took on a dangerous look and she glared fire at Malfoy. "You'd best watch your words, ferret, or I'll hex you into next week."

"With what wand?" Draco mocked. He pulled out his own wand and began twirling it between his fingers, smiling. He didn't see Ginny's lip twitch angrily or notice that her face had flushed. She stood as best she could and whispered under her breath one of the most simple and one of the most useful spells she had ever learned. Her anger spurred her on. Wandless magic was simply wonderful.

It felt like a harsh wind blew through the little room when Draco's wand flew from his hand and into Ginny's.

"With this wand."

Draco's eyes widened. "You… give that back, Weasley, or the Dark Lord will hear of this!" His voice shook; Ginny knew he was bluffing.

"Yeah, Malfoy," she languorously replied. "You're going to march up to You-Know-Who and whine that the little blood traitor took your wand. We both know better than that." She pocketed his wand and sat back down. "Just tell me why you're here so you can leave already."

"I have orders to take you to a nice little room on the other side of the complex," he sneered. "I'm supposed to help you walk-" he stared at her bloody leg "-but as you've stolen my wand and are generally annoying, I don't think I will."

"Oh, but what about your orders, Malfoy? We wouldn't want you getting in trouble like your daddy, would we?"

"What do you know of my father?" he snapped. His shoulders slumped slightly and his platinum eyebrows knitted for a fraction of a second.

"Didn't you hear?" Ginny asked airily. "Daddy got in trouble for being mean to the Weaselette."

"You lie."

"Why should I lie when the truth is more likely to sting?" Ginny sighed. "You get your wand back when I'm in a comfy new room. Now help me up and out before I decide to curse you after all."

Draco swore under his breath. He grabbed Ginny's arm and threw it around his neck. He didn't miss the way she gripped his wand and, quite frankly, he didn't want to be hexed by her. She had fought against a group of Death Eaters at the Ministry for Magic and came out with nothing more than an injured ankle.

As they sluggishly made their way through hallway after hallway, Ginny began to laugh. Draco glared confusedly at her. "It's normal, almost," Ginny snickered. "It's not funny at all, but it's normal. You and me, I mean. No matter who's where and what's happened, you're still around to irritate me."

He heard himself chortle unconsciously. Abruptly he stopped at a heavy oak door and turned its silver knob. "Here you are," Draco said. "Now give me my wand."

Ginny threw it down the hall. "Fetch."

Devoid of emotion, he stared at her. "See you later, Weaselette."

Dinner

"Robes," someone yelled, opening Ginny's door and closing it as quickly as possible.

Ginny sighed. Plain black robes lay in a heap on the floor of her new bedroom. Everything was done in various shades of blue. Ginny hated blue. She didn't recall telling Tom her color preferences when she had the diary, but she figured he must have found out some way or another and put her in a blue room just to make her angry. Sighing again, she picked up the robes and hobbled over to her… blue… washroom. With enough saturation she was able to peel the jeans from her leg with minimal bleeding. She rolled the stained side up to her knee. Pulling on the robes, she looked at her reflection. At least this mirror doesn't talk. She ran fingers through her messy red hair and washed a bit of dirt from her nose.

"Good enough," she muttered, haphazardly throwing on the robes, and just in time. Someone had opened her door a crack and was peering into the room.

"Ginny?" a familiar voice softly called. "Ginny, are you dressed? Is it safe for me to come in?"

Was that- could it be- "Luna?" Ginny replied in shock. "Yes, yes, come in!"

"We're supposed to go have dinner now, Ginny," Luna said. Her airy voice had lost some of its cheerfulness and her flaxen hair seemed dull. "The Dark Lord doesn't like it when we're late."

That isn't to say you'll never be punished.

"Yeah…" Ginny murmured. "We'll talk on the way and during dinner."

"We aren't allowed to talk during dinner," Luna somberly replied as she began to lead Ginny towards the dining room.

"Why not?"

"He thinks we might talk about escaping, as if we could. The fastest Sniggerboohs couldn't get us away from here."

"Sniggerboohs?" Ginny smiled. Another constant- Luna's nonsensical chatter.

"Yes; Father wrote an article about them for the final issue of The Quibbler. They're very useful and quite fast. Remember the Thestrals? Sniggerboohs are almost three times as fast."

"How is your dad, Luna? I mean, is he still…"

"Alive?" Luna finished. "Yes, but I don't get to see him much. He keeps us separated into little groups. We're both female and of age but under twenty-five, so we're in the same group. The boys who meet the same prerequisites are in our group, too. Here we are," she said, knocking on a dark wooden door.

"Name?" a voice asked.

"Luna Lovegood, accompanied by Ginny Weasley."

The door opened, but before they could pass the threshold the masked Death Eater stopped them. "You know the rules, Lovegood- no joint arrivals."

"I was told to show Miss Weasley the way to the dining hall."

The Death Eater didn't verbalize his response; he simply moved aside and allowed them to enter.

This wasn't anything at all like the dining room Ginny had been in before. There were no portraits or fancy china, just bare walls and common flatware. There was a single long table at which many Witches and Wizards her age sat. Luna pressed a finger to her lips, reminding Ginny that speaking was forbidden. She then pointed to a small piece of paper at a place setting. Luna Lovegood, it read. Ginny understood; they had assigned seats. She would have said something sassy, but there were two murderers in masks chaperoning them. Sighing quietly, she searched the empty spaces. The paper reading Ginevra Weasley was situated between Neville Longbottom (she smiled to herself; Neville was alive) and Dmitri Yurovski.

Shrugging, she sat and surveyed the room, looking for familiar faces. There were some she recognized from Hogwarts. There was Draco, Blaise, the Patil twins, some Hufflepuffs and a few Ravenclaws, and a smattering of Slytherins. Most of these people were strangers. How much of the world had Tom already conquered? Dmitri Yurovski took his seat, then Neville. Ginny shot him a quick smile and squeezed his hand under the table once he was seated. She winced and snatched back her hand; Neville looked quickly and saw how torn it was. He raised his eyebrows in silent concern; she frowned slightly and shrugged. Soon enough every seat was filled and food appeared on the table.

It wasn't what she expected. She thought that with all of the rules and the oppressive atmosphere they would be given the stereotypical bread and water. She couldn't have been more wrong. The table was covered with delicious food, the kind she should be eating at Hogwarts right now. Her stomach lurched; Colin Creevey was in her year. Where was he? Then she remembered Tom saying that Muggle-borns would be eliminated. Was he dead? Her eyes stung from tears she didn't know she had been hiding.

After thinking about every Muggle-born and every half-blood (had her friends met Tom's expectations?) she had ever met, Ginny couldn't taste her food. She ate greedily (had she eaten anything since that cold soup?), but the food provided no comfort whatsoever. In fact, it became disconcerting as soon as Padma Patil finished her meal and stood. Ginny gasped; Padma's stomach was swollen. Tom was giving them good food to nourish the pureblood babies he expected the women to bear. Oh, god! When would that happen to her? Who would choose her… partner? She hoped that she and Neville were forced to be together. Neville was her friend and she trusted him to be sympathetic. She never thought that she would sleep with Neville Longbottom, much less hope for it.

Stupid Tom. She'd never be able to fall in love. She'd never be able to make love; plain old sex was all she would ever get. She might resent any child she had because of its father. Stupid Tom and his stupid ideas. He had to be the biggest megalomaniac on the face of the planet, even worse than those guys she learned about in Muggle Studies. Linen and Stalling, right? Or Neapolitan and Hiller? Pot Pot? Meow Z-dung? Tom was worse than any of them, she decided. They had all been beaten, right? So that meant Tom could be beaten as well. Wait- no, not all of them were defeated.

Damn.

Yeah… so… taa-daa!

Your reviews have been very helpful to me. I go forward and change things when a specific issue is brought to my attention. That means that reviewing is in your best interest! Have any thoughts? Leave them in a review! I really enjoy in-depth critiques, for the record.

Next Time: "I want to know how you went from being so ugly to so good-looking!" Oops. Shouldn't have said most of that.


	6. E

Bonjour! How are you? I missed you! I know, I know, I'm late! Je suis tres desolee!

Without further ado, I give you…

Alphabet Soup

E

Enigma

Immediately after she got back to her room, someone knocked on her door. They didn't bother to wait for a 'Come in!' or 'Yes?'. That meant one thing: whomever was about to come in had no regard for her privacy. Death Eater, she thought. Tom was standing in the door frame.

"Did you enjoy your dinner?" he asked politely, hands folded behind his back.

"Not particularly," Ginny answered. Tom raised an eyebrow. "I mean, the food was good and everything, but after a while it just became bland. I kept thinking about my friends and felt kind of sick. Plus, what's with the whole assigned seating thing? And the no talking policy?"

"I think that your last two questions could easily be figured out by a clever girl like you, little Ginny."

"Yes, I believe I know the answers," Ginny replied. "I guess I just wanted you to confirm my suspicions."

Tom laughed and lay on Ginny's bed, stretching himself out and putting his hands behind his head. Ginny hobbled over to a chair. Tom's brow furrowed. "Didn't anyone give you murtlap essence for your wounds?"

"No."

"Who escorted you to this room?"

"Draco Malfoy," Ginny said, "but it's really not a big deal, Tom."

"Insubordination is a big deal, little Ginny," Tom acerbically replied. "Those damn Malfoys are practically begging to be-"

"Please, Tom! I know I can't talk you out of anything, but will you please not say what you're going to do?"

"Only for you, little Ginny," Tom smiled.

His face then became hard and serious; Ginny was afraid to speak, lest she anger him. She stared at him for a while, not knowing what to do. He was so different- different from the Voldemort she had seen not so very long ago, and different from the Tom Riddle who was trapped in a diary. He looked older than that Tom, but only just. He certainly wasn't fifteen anymore, but he couldn't be more than twenty-five. His beauty was more refined than that of a teenager. His blue eyes were open, unblinking, and full of something Ginny couldn't identify. She wasn't sure she even wanted to know. She yawned. Tom snapped into a sitting position.

"I'm sorry, Tom!" Ginny exclaimed. "I- I didn't mean to disturb you!"

"Fear doesn't become you, little Ginny. You're much more interesting when you say what's on your mind. So tell me, little one, what are you thinking?"

She blushed. She couldn't say that she was staring at his face and thinking about his looks. "I was kind of thinking that I wanted to know what you were thinking. You were all serious." Okay, Gin, it's part of the truth…

"My thoughts are none of your concern," Tom replied coldly. "Besides, I know you had other things on your mind. Tell me."

"Well…"

"Don't hesitate!" Tom demanded. "Answer me promptly when I ask you a question!"

"Sorry," Ginny snapped. "I want to know where a comb and toothbrush are. I want to know if I get to socialize at all. I want to know who you're going to make me sleep with to make little pureblood babies. I want to know why you let me call you 'Tom' when no one else knows that's your real name. And I want to know how you went from being so ugly to so good-looking!" Oops. Shouldn't have said most of that.

"Well, that's better," Tom smirked. "Let's see. The state of your hair does suggest that your room hasn't been properly supplied yet."

"You sure know how to make a girl feel pretty, Tom," she snorted. He ignored her.

"Socializing is allowed whenever I decide to grant that privilege." He paused. "I'm not going to make you sleep with anybody, little Ginny. Put a bunch of hormonal youths together and these things just happen."

"So I still don't really have much of a choice, then?"

"Don't interrupt. I allow you to call me 'Tom' because I was 'Tom' to you for a very long time. It would be strange to hear you call me anything else. As for the change in my appearance, the method is not known to anyone but me." He smiled cheekily. "But I'm glad you find my current state aesthetically pleasing."

"I didn't mean to say that part," Ginny said, blushing furiously and looking at the floor.

"I'm sure you didn't," he drawled. "You hate me, after all."

"That's right."

Tom stood up and sighed. "That's too bad, little Ginny. I had rather hoped that we could be friends again." Ginny's jaw dropped. Tom laughed sarcastically. "I'll have that murtlap essence sent up straight away. I hope you sleep well."

Sleep? It was just after dinner. She limped to her bed. Come to think of it, she was rather tired. Maybe the food had some kind of sleeping draught in it. She inhaled deeply. Her blankets smelled like Tom. It wasn't an unpleasant aroma (it was rather nice, if she was to be honest) but she gagged and pinched her nose shut. As she was falling asleep, her mind registered a woman putting a thick liquid on her right leg. Murtlap.

He killed her family but made sure that she was well treated. He was cold-hearted but not entirely objectionable.

Ginny didn't like him, but she voiced the conclusion to which she had come. "Tom Riddle, you are an enigma."

Empty Skies

"So why are we allowed to talk out here but not at meals?" Ginny asked Neville.

He shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"Luna reckons that he thinks we'll try to make escape plans."

"I don't think that's it," Neville said. "We used to be allowed to talk when we ate. I guess the Death Eaters didn't want to listen to us."

Ginny and Neville sat on a rough stone bench in the courtyard area. The tang of coastal sea air stung Ginny's nose. She sighed. There were plants and trees, even little animals out here. It was a stark contrast to the world inside their prison. They could see the sky here, and feel the wind, but it didn't matter. Not really. It was just prettier outside; they were all still trapped. Not even Luna's… what did she call them? could save them (if the things existed at all). Still, she could see the sky. That was something, right?

"Neville," Ginny started, "do you think we'll ever get out of here?"

"No," he mumbled. "If Harry could beat You-Know-Who, I'd have hope, but he didn't. He's the one the Prophecy talks about, and he couldn't do it."

"Yet," Ginny added. "He will. Or someone will. Someone has to." She stared out over the ocean, hazel eyes glistening. "One day we'll be sitting out here, moping like we are now, and members of The Order will come flying out of nowhere and save us."

"You don't believe that any more than I do," Neville replied, shaking his head.

She didn't want to think about that kind of future and abruptly changed the subject. "How'd you end up here? I said his name."

"Me too, actually," Neville grinned. "Gran and I were having a row and it sort of slipped out. I'd never been brave enough to say it, but it just came out of my mouth like it was a normal kind of word."

"There's nothing normal at all about the Dark Lord," drawled Draco Malfoy. He stepped closer to the stone-hewn bench on which Ginny and Neville sat. "He's more powerful than any being has ever or will ever be."

Ginny set her lips in a right line and glared at Malfoy. Before any harsh words could escape her mouth, she saw his condition. Both of his eyes were black. His hands were covered in scratches and it looked like someone had torn his face with their fingernails. "God, Malfoy," she breathed. "You look like hell."

"Thank you, Weaselette," he replied. "It was a well-fought battle. You should see the other guy."

"What happened?" Neville asked, eyes wide.

"I punched a high-ranking Death Eater in the face. He was badmouthing the Dark Lord; I couldn't allow him to do that. I snapped his wand before he could grab it and he fought like a common Muggle. I came out better, though; he has a broken arm."

Ginny stood quickly and dragged Malfoy away from the bench. "We both know that's not what happened," she hissed.

"Yes it is!" he replied defiantly. "You weren't there when it happened!"

"No, but I was there when To- The Dark Lord was deciding how to punish you!" she snapped.

He regarded her archly. "Yes, I'm supposed to believe that you are in the Dark Lord's inner circle, right? And that he discusses things with you that he wouldn't discuss with Death Eaters?"

She snorted. "Inner circle? No; not even if he invited me. I just happened to be there when he was… thinking out loud."

"Eavesdropping, Weasley? I'll have to report you."

"Go ahead, Malfoy," Ginny challenged. "I may get in trouble for talking to you about what he said, but I doubt that even then he'll consent to give you any murtlap."

He blanched. "So you know the truth, then? No one will believe you. I mean, why would the Dark Lord care about a blood traitor's well-being?"

"Oh, I won't be telling anyone. I just wanted the pleasure of hearing you falter a bit. How do you feel? Was your little lapse in judgment worth a beating?" She was ashamed of herself. Hadn't she begged to be left ignorant about Malfoy's punishment?

Malfoy flinched. "I heard you talking to Longbottom before," he said. "And you're a fool if you think you'll ever leave this place. You look at the sky and hope for a rescue; it won't happen."

Ginny went back to the stone bench; Neville was no longer there. She looked up and hated herself. Malfoy's probably right. She told her inner voice to shut up and called for Luna. Maybe Luna could brighten her spirits.

…And that was another relatively short one. F, G, and H are all longer; will that be adequate compensation?

Review, review, review!

Next Time: Stupid girls with stupid superiority complexes. Stupid rules. Stupid people tattling when they deserved to be hit. Stupid chair. Stupid Death Eater. Stupid Tom. Stupid spell being cast at her… oh, shit.


	7. E

Hullo again! This is longish!

Happy Saturday! ...Okay, so it's late... again. I'm sorry, I had crap to do... like see the "Twilight" movie and proceed to complain to everyone with at least one partially functioning ear about the lack of talent on the part of the actress who played Bella. Also I did *actual* things.

Tom gets tipsy this time, but only a little bit. Is Tipsy!Tom okay or does he suck? Let me know in a review! I'll pass on all comments regarding this to the lovely Juvy, the Official Tipsiness Correspondent (because I've never in my life gotten even the least bit tipsy. I know, I'm a wuss).

Alphabet Soup

F

Fights

"It's been like, what? two weeks or something that you've been here and you still haven't found any boy you find attractive?"

"What about that boy who sits next to you for meals?"

"He doesn't even speak English!" Ginny snapped. She was getting really tired of these girls, especially the ones she didn't know very well, telling her that she should hurry and find a beau.

"That doesn't matter."

"You'll get in trouble if you don't hurry up!"

"I'll start punching people if you lot don't shut up!" Ginny shouted. She balled her hands into fists for effect and bit her lip to control her temper. Count backwards from ten…

"We're just looking out for you, Ginny. Don't get so upset."

Better make that backwards from twenty…

"I think you're making her rather angry," said Luna's dreamy, far-off voice. "Perhaps you should stop."

"Loony, stay out of it. This has nothing to do- augh!"

Blood was streaming from the nose and into the mouth of the girl who had spoken. Ginny thought she may have been a Hufflepuff, once upon a time. "No one insults my friends," Ginny seethed. "Especially not her." The girl was pinching her nose to stop the bleeding. One of the others ran to get a 'chaperone'.

"Ginny, you didn't need to do that," Luna whispered, taking Ginny's hand. "But thank you all the same."

"Not a problem," Ginny responded, squeezing Luna's fingers harder than was necessary. Luna didn't seem to mind, or, if she did, she made no remarks. As she was pulled away by a Death Eater, Ginny heard Luna call out to her.

"You'll be fine…"

The next voice she heard was that of the Death Eater. "Stupid mistake, girl," she said. She had a thick Portuguese accent and smelled of heavy perfume. "You aren't 'priority one' anymore; the Dark Lord will not make us be merciful." She pushed Ginny into a hard, sturdy, and very uncomfortable chair. "Stay."

Ginny snorted. "I'm not a dog; you should use your manners." She received a slap instead of a spoken answer.

Stupid girls with stupid superiority complexes. Stupid rules. Stupid people tattling when they deserved to be hit. Stupid chair. Stupid Death Eater. Stupid Tom. Stupid spell being cast at her… oh, shit.

She woke up hungry. Where was she? How long had she been out? What was that noise?

"Who- who's there?"

Silence.

"I asked- please, who's there?"

Fear doesn't become you…

"Oh, turn on a fucking light or something," she bit.

"Fine. Lumos." Draco Malfoy was leaning in a corner, smirking.

"Oh, it's just you, ferret," Ginny laughed. "And I thought there would be something scary in here." Draco frowned. "So, do you ask for assignments involving me or are you just that lucky?" She laughed at Draco's irritation. Maybe Tom's words had some weight; acting brave was certainly working for her.

"You would do well to watch your tongue," Draco said. "Bellatrix is waiting for any reason to claw out your eyes. Sassing her favorite nephew would be more than reason enough."

"Aren't you her only nephew?" Ginny countered.

Draco flushed. "That's neither here nor there. The point is that I'm in charge. Anyway, I'm to escort you to the kitchens and then leave you."

That's my punishment? Kitchen duty?

But there was more to it, Ginny realized upon entering the hot kitchen full of house elves. As soon as they started asking things like "What does Miss want to drink?" or "Would Miss like roast chicken?", Ginny's arm was tugged and she was placed on a stool against the wall. The elves were hitting themselves in the head. "We is not to give you food, Miss," an elf squeaked. Its eyes were brimming with tears and it looked compelled to simultaneously hand Ginny a roll and bash its head on the floor. "You is only watching us. We is wanting to feed you, but Master said that feeding you is a bad idea or we gets punished." The elf nearly howled with sadness when she heard Ginny's stomach rumble. "Oh, how we wants to give Miss pasties!" It pulled hard on its ear.

A Death Eater was stationed next to her. "I've seen you before," Ginny said. "You were at the Department of Mysteries."

"Well spotted," he sneered. "Ah, and here comes my little snack, Miss Weasley. Sorry, I really am quite hungry and will be keeping it all for myself."

Cake. Tom knows I love cake. He's starving me. Does that count as torture? Is that better or worse than the Cruciatus Curse? I'm rather dizzy. God, that smells good.

"How long was I, er, passed out?"

"Not long."

"How long is 'not long'?"

"Only a few days, I think. Three and a half, I'm pretty sure." Ginny's stomach growled loudly again. "Hungry?" the Death Eater asked. Ginny looked up at him angrily. That delicious-looking cake was stuck to some of his crooked teeth. She was so hungry that it hurt. The heat of the ovens made her throat dry and she ached for something to drink, yet she shivered. Dizzy. She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, wishing she was in a regular chair and not a stool. The room spun and she felt like she was falling. Dizzy. Yeah, she was falling. No, the Death Eater caught her and straightened her. "You're here until dinner is over, Weasley." Hungry. Dizzy. I'd even eat sprouts at this point. Hell, I'd eat a live garden gnome.

She cracked a small smile. She remembered something Ron had said to a Muggle about garden gnomes.

"Olivia, Bob's got three more garden gnomes. Honestly, I think this obsession of his is getting out of hand." "What does he have now, forty or so?" "Something like that." "'scuse me, but did you say you had forty garden gnomes?" "You're the Weasley boy, right? Yes, we have far too many gnomes in my opinion." "All you have to do is pick them up by the legs, get them good and dizzy, and throw them. Or I could do it for you. Since they bite, you know. I'd do it for a Sickle." The Muggles looked at him strangely. "Ron, her husband collects garden gnomes- the ceramic lawn decorations. I don't think he would like it if you threw them." Ginny said. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but my brother has an overactive imagination." "Right. I really must be going. I'll talk to you later, Olivia…"

Ginny would have laughed had her throat not been so dry and her diaphragm so achy. Her stomach gurgled and she looked desperately at the Death Eater (who was now downing shepherd's pie) to see if he had let his guard down so she could make a break for it and stuff the closest piece of food into hew maw. No such luck. She thought about trying anyway, knowing that she would be hexed in a heartbeat but thought better of it. What would Tom do to her?

That's not to say you'll never be punished…

She thought about the rules. The house elves couldn't give her food. She had to stay on the stool until dinner was over. That left her with one option: Summoning food. That way the house elves weren't breaking their promise, nor was she leaving the stool. She remembered how she had wandlessly Disarmed Malfoy a few weeks earlier. It was worth a try, right? She stared at the food closest to her, a doughnut, and concentrated on how much she needed it. "Accio doughnut!"

She got one bite before the Death Eater snatched the food from her hands. "The Dark Lord will hear about this."

"I'm sure he will," Ginny mumbled.

Once she was given the go-ahead to eat, Ginny stuffed herself with everything she saw until she was full. Then she kept eating. Then she got a headache. Then she got sick. Then she ate more. Then the Death Eater took her arm and lead her out of the kitchen. Then she got sick on the Death Eater. That's what you get for taking my doughnut.

Friday the 31st

Halloween snuck up on Ginny. It seemed to her that she had been on this god-forsaken island prison forever and, every day being the same, she didn't know it was her favorite holiday until she heard the nervous whispers of Death Eaters.

"They call it 'Harry Potter Day', you know. I don't think the Dark Lord will like that one bit."

Harry Potter Day- October the thirty-first, when Voldemort had been seemingly destroyed by a one-year-old so many years ago, was noticeably different this year. Aside from whispers, the Death Eaters didn't talk. The prisoners were confined to their rooms, only let out for meals. Things in the dining room were noticeably different as well; there were no Death Eater chaperones. The plain room with its plain china was buzzing with whispers. Luna was staring thoughtfully at the adjacent wall. Neville was trying to get Ginny to talk to him, but she wasn't about to open her mouth. No more rule-breaking. The din grew steadily louder as the people realized that they were eating unaccompanied. Ginny shut her eyes tight. Many of the voices were going on about Harry Potter. She ate silently. Someone could come in at any time.

"I went to school with Harry," Padma Patil boasted. "He and Ginny- her, the ginger- were in love!"

Ginny shook her head, fighting back a colorful string of phrases to fling at Padma. Her lip twitched and she started to flush.

"Oh, they went out for a while," Parvati said. "Their first kiss was so romantic! It was in the Common Room, right after a Quidditch match. He just swept her off her feet. Tell them, Ginny." Ginny stayed quiet.

"She's just being shy," Padma stated. "Ginny, tell them all about Harry! Didn't he save the Philosopher's Stone? Oh, you weren't there yet."

"And the diary, Ginny! Tell them about the Hat and the sword and the Chamber of-"

"I don't want to talk about Harry Potter!" Ginny shouted. "I just want to get through supper quietly and then go to sleep, okay? Stop asking me about Harry, because I'm not going to tell you anything you probably don't already know!" She stood and moved to leave.

Someone screamed. Her first instinct was to snatch her wand, but it had been taken two months ago. Everyone turned in different directions as the lights began to flicker on and off, as the screaming got louder, as their voices became more pronounced and eventually drowned out that far-away scream, as the door opened and closed of its own volition, as the floor trembled and the walls shook, as the cutlery bounced willy-nilly on the table and china fell to the floor, and then they themselves started to scream.

It stopped, all of it.

All of the young people bolted for the door, clogging it, and ran. Ginny, Luna, and Neville held on to one another and stayed at the back of the crowd. The three held hands and sat on the floor.

"It's probably best if we stay here," Ginny whispered.

"Oh, I'd much prefer to stay here. We can't talk if we're stuck in different rooms. Well, I suppose we could, but we'd be talking to ourselves and that's not nearly as rewarding as talking to someone else." She paused for a long moment. "I wonder what that was, and who was screaming."

"It felt like an earthquake," Ginny said.

"I bet they're using the Cruciatus Curse on someone," Neville murmured, white-faced. "That's why someone was screaming. They're being tortured."

"Tom's too creative for that," Ginny replied. "When he punished me, I got four days without food, not a curse."

"Tom? Who's that?" Luna asked.

"Er…" Ginny stammered. "He's the guy who decides the punishments."

"Oh," Neville said. "I figured You-Know-Who would decide." There was another sudden crash, much nearer, and heavy footsteps.

"I figured You-Know-Who would decide," someone mimicked derisively. Neville's eyes shifted and his sweaty fingers tightened around Ginny's. "Look, how quaint. It's a little reunion. You're only missing the Mudblood, the half-wit, and your little savior."

"Tom!" Ginny leapt to her feet and ran to him. "Are you okay?"

"Am I okay, she asks," Tom said, stumbling a bit. "No, Ginny. I'm drunk, pissed off, and ready to hex the next word that touches me. That was a dumb question."

"Tom," she tentatively said, "Tom, you need to sit down. Luna, fetch Tom a glass of water."

Luna handed him a glass (half empty or half full?) of water. He promptly threw it to the ground. …Okay, entirely empty. "Don't patronize me, little Ginny," he snapped.

"She's just trying to help," Neville said, jumping to Ginny's defense.

Tom turned his gaze in Neville's direction. "Longbottom," he said. "Bellatrix scrambled their brains like eggs, huh?" Neville clenched his fists and stepped towards Tom. Luna grabbed him by the wrist before he could take more than two strides. "I wish your Mum had managed to kill her at Hogwarts, Gin. She's a right bucket of nuts, that one. Pissed me off. Harry Potter, Harry Potter!" he tried to mimic her voice, then looked directly at Neville. "Want to kill her? You'd be doing me a service, and Lord Voldemort rewards those-"

"Tom," Ginny interrupted quickly, "why don't you lie down, have some water or aspirin or something."

"Little Ginny, you're treading in dangerous ground," he growled.

"You can't tread in ground," Luna lightly interjected, "only water."

"Tell your friends to shut up and go away," he barked at Ginny. Trembling, she widened her eyes, nodded her head, and waved her hand at the door. Neville and Luna moved over the threshold with trepidation. She gave them a thumbs-up and shooed them away. At least they'll be safe. Tipsy Lord Voldemort. Never thought I'd see the day. "Wait, somebody get me some Pepper-Up Potion!"

Feeling Better ...and just plain feeling

Tom was sitting against the plain wall of the dingy dining room of Ginny's age group. "Better."

"That's good," Ginny sighed, stretching her legs and yawning.

"Why are you still here?" Tom asked harshly. "Did you like seeing me humiliated like that?"

"And here I thought you'd be grateful," she replied dryly and extended her arm down, offering to help Tom stand.

"Grateful? For what?"

"For trying to help you, you idiot!" Ginny snapped.

"Aw, it's almost like you care, dear Ginny," he drawled; he pushed away her hand and stood on his own.

"I don't. I shouldn't," she said flatly, "but you were saying things that I'm pretty sure you don't want people to hear. If you'd let them know that you're just a younger-looking version of You-Know-Who, you'd have probably found some way to punish me for it. Lose-lose situation, it seems. I help, you bitch at me. I let you get on, well, who knows what you'd have done to me."

Tom sighed and put his face in his hand. "I'll have to modify their memories."

Ginny didn't answer; she just nodded.

"No objections?"

"You're going to do what you want, Tom," she sighed. "There's no point in trying to change you. It would be fruitless and foolish to boot."

"Yes."

"Tom…" Ginny began, "may I ask what happened to make the whole complex shake like that?"

"Bellatrix," he answered. "I heard her talking about your Gryffindor boyfriend," he spat, "and this being the anniversary of my 'demise'." He looked at her, eyes rimmed with fury. "I'm here, aren't I?" he shouted. "I was obviously not destroyed! To think that a little toddler could bring down Lord Voldemort, it's ridiculous! Oh," he paused, smiling sweetly. "I'm speaking ill of your love. Aren't you angry with me? Your face is flushing."

"Angry? Yeah, I'm angry," Ginny bit. "I'm not dumb enough to play into your hands, though. I'm not giving you the satisfaction of seeing me irritated. And for the record, Harry was only my boyfriend for about thirty seconds, and I wasn't in love with him. And you still didn't tell me where that earthquake came from."

"I told you, Bellatrix made me angry. Sometimes even I forget how powerful I am. I was only trying to curse her senseless."

"So, when you're really mad… and have been drinking… you can make tectonic plates shift? Remind me to stay on your good side."

"I don't have a good side."

"I haven't forgotten," Ginny said. "It's just a turn of phrase."

"Go to your room, Ginny."

"Oh, yes sir. Right away, sir," she hissed. As she walked from the room, Tom heard her say, "ungrateful bastard" and knew that it was meant to reach his ears.

"I thought you already knew that," he shouted throatily.

Ginny stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him. Pitiful. Lord Voldemort leaning on a wall for support. If he was anyone else, I might feel bad for him. "Knew what?" she asked slowly.

"That I'm an ungrateful bastard, little Ginny."

The emphasis was not lost on her. "Oh," she said, looking at the floor. "No, I didn't know that, Tom."

He looked at her suspiciously. "Your little boyfriend didn't tell you all about me? I find that hard to believe."

"Believe what you want, Tom," she sighed. A slight blush touched her freckled cheeks. He doesn't have a dad either. Her lip twitched and she remembered who he was. Good. He doesn't deserve a dad.

Later, when she was snuggled beneath her (blue) blankets, she thought more on this. Maybe… maybe if he'd had a dad, he wouldn't have turned out so evil. No, she decided. Harry didn't have a dad and he turned out decent. Some people must just be born wicked.

Like? Dislike? Let me know by reviewing!

Thanks again to Juvy

'til next week, then (I hope...).

OH! You are officially 25% through the story. I'll have a list of thanks to every reviewer in the next chapter.


	8. G

Yo. Everybody doin' okay? I hope so. I got seasick from watching ballet. Only me...

This is one of those important chapters that may seem weird. It's not one of my favorites (the next one is pretty good!), but it's totally necessary. We have a new OC- anyone who can tell me the origin of his name gets a chocolate Dark Mark made by Molly. I'm the author, I can force Molly to make them! Anywho…

Alphabet Soup

G

Good Ideas?

True to his word, Tom had Luna and Neville's memories modified. Yet she retained her memories of Halloween. Why? Ginny resolved not to tell a soul about what she had seen and experienced. When people asked about last night's mysterious earthquake, she pretended to be as confused as everyone else. She tried to push her newly acquired knowledge of Tom's past into the back of her brain. If she kept it hidden then she couldn't think about it. If she couldn't think about it, she couldn't empathize. If she empathized- well, that would be a bad idea. Lord Voldemort might now be handsome, but his nature hadn't changed. Maybe he told her he was a bastard child for the express purpose of making her feel sorry for him. It could have been a lie. That was very possible. No. He didn't mean to say that. But why didn't he erase my memory? He's messing with me. Something's up.

The dinner table that night was much larger. New faces were there, faces Ginny was sure had never seen Hogwarts, or perhaps any of the UK. They weren't as lucky as she had been; no one told them the rules before they passed into the room. She was certain she heard Greek voices, and perhaps Italian ones, before a Death Eater rapidly pointed their wand at each of the talking people in turn. "Silencio." Ginny sighed and picked at her food.

She noticed that Padma Patil was missing. Remembering that Padma was pregnant, Ginny shuddered. She was probably pushing out some little pureblood right now. Poor kid. It'll never know a normal world. The idea brought ominous thoughts to Ginny's mind. She had yet to become a 'hormonal adolescent', or whatever Tom had called it. There just wasn't anyone… right. But that wouldn't matter to Tom. She briefly entertained the horrific notion that for some reason she would be forced into a relationship with Malfoy. The taste of bile quickly overpowered that of her turkey. She shook the disgusting prospect out of her head. Neville looked at her curiously from her right. Neville!

Two days later she was able to ask Neville about her little idea.

"Luna," Ginny asked slowly, "do you think I could speak to Neville alone for a few moments?"

Luna nodded and skipped away to the other side of the exercise complex.

"Ginny?" Neville asked, looking utterly confused.

It was a sunny day, but the breeze bit. Ginny could have used these things as excuses for her flushed cheeks, but she didn't. She knew Neville would be just as red when she launched her proposition at him. Will this even work?

"Neville," she began, sucking in a cold breath of air. "Neville, I don't want to get in any more trouble. I think that going a few days without food wasn't really You-Know-Who's idea of a harsh punishment. Anyway, we're supposed to be all hormonal and all of that and this is really weird and I don't know why or how this is even coming out of my mouth, but we're friends and I thought we could help each other out, maybe break the rules but not get in trouble, you know, and I don't think we'd get caught unless one of us squealed and neither of us are stupid enough to do that so I'm wondering if maybe you'd be willing to pretend to sleep together so we can be okay and it won't be as weird since we know each other so well and it wouldn't be hard for anyone to imagine because we know each other and I think I just said that part and Neville I need you to say something to shut me up because I can't breathe if I don't stop talking soon and this is making me extremely nervous-"

"Ginny, calm down!" Neville cut in, red as a tomato. "I think… I think…"

"Yeah, it's probably a bad idea and it wouldn't work anyway-"

"Are you serious?" His jaw had dropped. "You'd ask me… over all of the other boys here? Ginny, you could have your pick!" He paused in thought, flushing. "But… well, okay. I guess."

"I understand why you won't, it's too weird. Wait- what?"

"I said I'll do it," Neville repeated, looking at his hands as he did so. "It may not work, but it's something, at least. Nobody wants to do what You-Know-Who has 'suggested'; if we can keep each other safe, even for a little while, then I'll do it."

"And you- you're not worried about being punished?" Ginny asked, shocked.

"Well, yeah, I am," he admitted sheepishly, "but still… if we pull this off effectively enough for even a week or so… I mean, Ginny, you're very pretty. It's only a matter of time before someone decides to go a little further than you'd like without your permission."

"Oh, Neville!" she exclaimed, hugging him. "You're so sweet. I don't want you to be put in danger for my sake, though. I'll handle… whatever happens… if you're even a tiny bit reluctant. I don't want to be protected at your expense."

"Hey, it's protecting me too, remember?" he smiled. "It's symbiotic."

"Yeah…" Ginny said. She looked to where the blue sky met the sea and retreated into her mind for a moment. "We'll find a way out of this mess, Neville. We have to."

He frowned a bit. "Let's make this plan official. Come on, shake hands. We'll vow to do our best to stay safe and to keep our friends safe, too."

"Agreed," Ginny nodded. They shook on it. She paused and bit her lip. "D'you think we should tell Luna about this?"

Neville shook his head. "The fewer people who know, the better. No one, not even Luna, can hear about this."

"Let's go inside and start… faking, then."

I hope this works…

It wouldn't work for long.

Getting to It

"Okay, let's, um…" Ginny stammered. "How about… okay, I guess I'll just rough my hair up a bit… better do yours too, Neville."

"And we probably should do jumping jacks or similar," Neville suggested. Ginny eyed him questioningly. "To look like we've been er, active," he clarified. Ginny nodded.

Fifty jumping jacks later, they were sufficiently tired and panting heavily. Neville started pinching his cheeks violently. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Face stays redder longer," Neville explained. Ginny began to mime his actions, still short of breath. "Look convincing?"

"Yeah, actually," Ginny laughed. Her eyes widened with embarrassment. She had as much as told Neville that she wasn't a virgin. She looked at her feet meekly. Neville laughed at her.

"Come on, Ginny. Do you think I care?" he chuckled, reading her expression. "Or that I didn't know? Dean likes to brag… Sorry! I don't mean to embarrass you!"

Dean is a Muggle-born. Dean might be dead right now. I'm feeling anger towards a dead man.

"It's alright," she sighed. "Doesn't really matter anymore, does it?"

Neville shrugged. "I guess not. I mean, everybody knew about me and Hannah. They all made fun of us." He frowned slightly.

"I didn't." The air was pregnant with teenage shame. "Okay, crinkle your robes and leave secretly."

"Gran always says that the more inconspicuous you try to be, the more conspicuous you are."

"I'm counting on it. We need people to think something's going on. You leave now- go talk to Luna or one of the new people or someone, I don't know- and I'll follow in a few minutes."

Neville nodded. "Right."

The door opened and shut quickly. Ginny let out a sigh and fell backwards onto her bed. This was a bad idea, Ginny. Neville's gonna get in trouble because of you. You shouldn't have even asked. But what else could she have done? Selfish. But it helped them both, right? Friends needed to stick together. You know you weren't thinking of his safety. But he said it was symbiotic. It was, right? You're taking advantage of him. He didn't have to agree! You made him feel obligated. You're just using him.

"I am NOT!" Ginny shouted as she sat bolt upright. "Stupid inner voice. You aren't my conscience. You're just trying to freak me out. It's this atmosphere; I'm going nuts! Gah, I'm talking to myself out loud! Proof of insanity." She twiddled her thumbs, something she had seen her father do many times, and waited. After another minute or two she emerged. The taste of guilt mingled with self-pity lingered on her tongue. Bashfully she returned outside.

It had started to rain. Many of the others were heading inside; they would rather be alone in their rooms than under this cold shower. Ginny let the chilly drops hit her face. They stung. Clouds churned above the sea and large whitecaps were visible from every direction. Her mother had always said to come indoors at the first sign of a thunderstorm (she didn't even like the kids playing Quidditch in the rain), but Ginny pushed away that advice and simply sat on the ground. She tilted back her head and let the salty raindrops fall into her open mouth. She started when she heard the first mumble of thunder and saw the blue heat lightning in the south. Snuggling into her robes, she wasn't surprised to find Luna sitting nearby. Her flaxen hair was a dreary yellow curtain around her heart-shaped face, a face lit only by unusually bright blue eyes.

"I'd like to play in the ocean right now."

"My mother would pitch a fit at the idea. Too dangerous."

"I rather enjoy turbulent waters. They're much more interesting than stationary water. After storms, such wonderful things wash up on the beach." Luna smiled as a flash of lightning put spots in their eyes. "I saw my father today."

"Is he well?" Ginny asked carefully.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose. He's dreary, of course."

"Who here isn't?"

"True enough. We must try to keep optimistic, though. Hope is only really gone when we forget it's there."

"Things will turn out okay in the end," Ginny sighed. "They have to. There are still so many people out there, most of them missing family members. That has to spur them on- the thought of rebuilding their families. I know mine won't give up on me. We've already lost too much; Mum will fight tooth and nail to put this puzzle back together." She grinned. "You-Know-Who would cower before an angry Molly Weasley."

Luna let go a tinkling laugh. "Yes, you may be right. Wasn't your mum the only person who could keep the twins in line? That in itself is a feat."

"Yeah," she said with a smile. "When Hermione became prefect, all she had to do was threaten a letter to Mum to get them settled… or to pretend to settle." Luna ducked her head. "What?" Ginny asked.

"Nothing," Luna replied, shaking her head. A blush was creeping into her cheeks.

"Tell me," the other insisted, smiling and biting her lip.

"It's embarrassing."

"Since when do you get embarrassed?"

"Since now…" Ginny glared at her playfully, never once blinking. "Okay, fine. I'll tell you. But don't laugh! I have sort of fancied George for a long while."

"George?! You could tell him apart from Fred?!"

"Oddly enough, yes. Identical twins aren't nearly as identical as they seem."

"Well," Ginny promised, "when we get out of here, one of our first pieces of business will be to get you in with George."

Luna looked shocked. "You're not joking?"

"No; I think you could do him a lot of good." The thunder clapped closer and the rain fell in sheets. "We'd best go inside now."

"Yes; the Toxic Mongeese could arrive at any moment. They quite enjoy this weather."

Gotcha!

It was during their third muss-up session that Ginny and Neville were discovered.

"Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five…"

"Don't forget to breathe, Ginny. Jumping jacks can wear you out pretty quickly," Neville warned. He was slapping his cheeks a bit to give them some color.

"I knew I'd catch you sooner or later," a heavily accented voice came from the doorway. The color drained from Ginny and Neville's faces as they saw a Death Eater enter the room. "I heard about your plan," he explained, "but I didn't know if you would actually go through with it." He folded his long-fingered hands before him and gave a thin-lipped smirk. His gray eyes danced with delight.

"What plan?" Ginny asked, gasping for breath. Acting, don't fail me now…

"Don't play dumb, Weasley."

"Should I know you?" she asked evenly.

"Jean de Dannan," he introduced himself. "But that is inconsequential. You two have attempted to fool the Dark Lord."

"Sorry, Monsieur de Dannan, but you've got it wrong," Ginny said, flipping her long hair over her shoulder and tying it loosely into a ponytail. "I was exercising, that's all."

"And your friend has Tourette's syndrome."

"Yes, Monsieur, as a matter of fact!" Ginny snapped. She felt a little nudge at her mind.

"If that's true, then stop Occluding, ma cherie," he insisted strongly, fuzzy brown eyebrows knitting together.

"Don't address me so informally," Ginny replied coldly, "and no, I won't stop Occluding."

"I'll try your friend, then." Neville's eyes were wide with fear and his jaw went slack. He couldn't Occlude any better than Harry could. "Interesting," the Death Eater said smoothly after a moment. "A rotund little Squib like you with such a pretty pureblood. You could do better," he said to Ginny. Neville looked at the floor.

"No, I don't think I could. Neville Longbottom is one of the bravest people I've ever met, and he's hardly a Squib. He's a damn good wizard, and much easier on the eyes than- oh, let's say… you. Your frizzy brown hair isn't very appealing. Did you lick an eckelektric plug?"

"Quite an attitude, Weasley," de Dannan chastised, seemingly unfazed. "We'll see how that little tongue of yours wags when the Dark Lord arrives. I take my leave of you now."

"Au revoir, you Provincial sod!" She slammed the door behind the man. "I'm so sorry, Neville, but I think we're in deep shite."

"Hey, we got away with it for almost two weeks; that's something," he said. His voice held a fake smile. Puzzled, he looked Ginny in the eyes for a moment. Finally he whispered, "Did you mean it? What you said about me?"

"Every word," she assured him, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. "Except the part about you having Tourette's syndrome."

"I figured that," he chuckled.

"You'd best get back to your own room now," Ginny suggested. Neville nodded. As he began to walk away, she called after him. "I'm so sorry."

"It's me who can't Occlude. Let's call it an even trade."

"Okay, we're square, then."

Selfish girl. Now you'll both be tortured… or worse.

Ginny sat, waiting for the moment of reckoning, that moment wherein she would find out what Neville would suffer because of her foolishness.

Did that suck as much as I feared it would? Let me know in a review, please. I respond to all signed reviews.

Thanks again to the incomparable Juvy. She got me interested in Luna/George. Her logic is this: you wouldn't be able to tell if their kids were crazy or play-acting. Isn't that brilliant?

And huge thanks to the following people- y'all gave me over FIFTY reviews as of a few chapters ago. I'm positively thrilled! So thanks, sam, kate, naamee, ncy555, bella, yannh, tony, sammyj, mox123, fic-princess, Blpc1992, Kore, MoreEverything, HellHathNoFuryLikeMine, AHQRider, ThereAre666Ways2Love, Creatress, TomxGinny, Lunnaris, SerenityKaitlyn, Virginia Riddle-Malfoy, SometimeSelkie, Miss Ginevra Potter, siriuslvr24, InnerShadow


	9. H

Hullo! Here's a little reminder: I don't own it. I know I said I'd only give the disclaimer once, but seeing as the first paragraph is almost entirely directly taken from DH I thought it would be a good idea to reiterate my un-owning-ness. Sorry, no Tom today. I'm a day early, though… forgive me?

Alphabet Soup

H

Harry

"Avada Kedavra!" they simultaneously shouted. Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward. Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead.

At least, that's what everyone in the Great Hall thought.

Relieved, Harry dropped his wand arm and sighed. It was dawn and he was tired. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Gasps and screams forced his eyes to open. Voldemort stood, unscathed, resplendent, and alive, as if he hadn't even fallen. His malice, prevalent only moments before, was gone. His serpentine face was smirking- if that strange slit of a mouth could smirk. Harry raised his wand again, the Killing Curse ready on his lips. "Avada-"

"I don't think so, Potter," Voldemort hissed. He spun, and with a flourish of his flowing cloak, he was gone. Just as swiftly, Death Eaters who had simply been stunned or hit with a Full Body-Bind rose and disappeared. Bellatrix Lestrange was among them. Molly Weasley clutched Ginny's arm protectively and virtually growled with maternal anger.

"Mum…" Ginny trembled.

"Let's… let's go find your dad and brothers- your brothers-" Molly choked. As they began to walk through the throng of buzzing survivors, Molly felt a hand on her arm and flinched, wand at the ready.

"Mrs. Weasley!"

"Oh, Harry! It's you."

He looked at her with pain evident in his eyes. His glasses were crooked and cracked; one of his pretty green eyes was sporting a shiner. "Mrs. Weasley… I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't-"

"Harry James Potter, don't you dare apologize for a thing!" Molly said. "You got him square in the chest- and the Killing Curse, Harry? We're lucky you're still alive! You have nothing to apologize for. We'll have him for everything he's done…"

"I could have done more!" Harry insisted, tugging his black hair anxiously. "Instead of just attacking him, I lectured Voldemort. He had time to prepare- and I thought sure he was going to die, and now he knows all about us having destroyed the Horcruxes! He could be ready to attack again tomorrow for all we know." Molly hugged him reassuringly. "It's all my fault-"

"Harry, no! You mustn't think that. You've done so much more than anyone could have imagined." Despite her words of comfort, Molly was crying.

"But it's all my fault! If I was faster at everything, Fred and Mr. Weasley would be alive, I know it!"

"Arthur?" Molly asked sharply. Ginny grabbed a fist full of her mother's robes so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "What's wrong with Arthur?"

Harry's face fell. "I- you didn't know yet?"

"What's wrong with Arthur? Where is my husband?" Molly howled. Ginny's breath was hitching.

"He… he's dead," Harry said lamely. "Hermione saw-"

"So you don't know for sure?" Molly interjected hastily. "He might just be hurt, or passed out? Where is he? We have to get him to St. Mungo's right away!" She moved to leave the Great Hall.

"Mrs. Weasley!" Harry called. "No- he's gone, he's- Hermione saw-"

"Hermione might have been wrong!" Molly shouted. "No one, not even her, is always right! Now take me to Arthur."

With great trepidation, Harry led Molly and Ginny to the Entrance Hall. There, next to Remus Lupin, lay Arthur Weasley. Blood matted his brow and was drying around his left ear. He was otherwise uninjured.

"You see, Harry? Just a little blood," Molly stated as she kneeled next to Mr. Weasley and looked into his blue eyes. They were wide open and unblinking. She waved her hand in front of his face. Behind her, she heard Ginny sniffle. "Arthur, can you hear me?"

"Mrs. Weasley…"

"Harry, I'm trying to talk to Arthur!" Molly snapped. She shook her husband's shoulder slightly. "Arthur, honey, I need you to say something. You're cold, dear. We need to get you some blankets. Harry, Ginny, help me carry him to Gryffindor Tower; we'll light a fire and warm him up. Arthur, say something, for god's sake."

"Mum…" Ginny whispered, "He's not going to answer."

"Nonsense," Molly chided. "Maybe we ought to take him straight to St. Mungo's." She shook his shoulder again. "Arthur, come on. We've got to take you to the hospital."

Ginny rested her fingers on her father's cold neck and immediately let out a sob that echoed off of the stone walls despite the din of the crowd. Arthur had no pulse.

"It's okay, Ginny. The Healers will fix him right up," Molly said cheerily. "Now help me carry him, you two. Or can we Apparate from here now?"

"Mum, he won't wake."

"Of course he will, don't be silly. Look, I think I just saw him blink. I'll Apparate with him. You haven't taken your test yet, Ginny; you'll have to side-along with Harry. We'll meet at St. Mungo's right away. Oh, but someone needs to let the boys know where we've gone." Her voice took on a hysterical tone. "Ginny, you round them up and side-along with any of them."

"Mum!" Ginny shouted. "He's not going to wake up! He's dead!"

Molly slapped Ginny with all of the strength she could muster. Ginny put her hand to her cheek and stared at her mother in shock.

Harry watched in horror. "Mrs. Weasley, she's right… Hermione saw someone cast the Killing Curse at him."

"Nonsense! The Killing Curse doesn't make you bleed, Harry! And don't say such things. Now give me some room so I can Apparate to London," Molly insisted.

"He hit his head when he fell…" He didn't want to be the one to tell her this. This shouldn't have happened at all. It was all his fault, all his fault…

"SHUT UP, Harry," Molly virtually screeched. "He isn't dead, I know he's not." As Harry began to loosen her grip on Arthur, Molly laughed bitterly. "We've been together since we were in school. He can't leave me- he wouldn't. He wouldn't leave the kids. Percy just came back to us, Arthur wouldn't leave. He wouldn't. He's going to stay, help us get on without F-Fred, he is!" Ginny began to help Harry pull Molly from the corpse. "No, no-" she began to cry. "Ginny, Harry, let go, we have to get him to the hospital! We have to take him b-before it's too- too late! Oh my god, Arthur, WAKE UP!" she screamed. Harry's own eyes prickles with tears. "Arthur… wake up…"

The next day, Professor Flitwick took Harry to a location known to only one other, Kingsley Shacklebot.

"Why are we hiding?" Harry asked fervently. "Vold-"

"Don't say his name, Harry! For all we know, it's still a taboo."

"Okay, You-Know-Who could come back at any moment, Professor!"

"I'm not your Professor anymore, Harry," Flitwick squeaked. "Call me Filius."

"Okay… Filius. Why are we in hiding? I have to fight him before he kills anybody else!"

"We're hiding for precisely that reason," Flitwick explained. "We need you alive so that when the opportunity arrives we can strike."

"But I'm the only one who can kill him!"

"Exactly."

"I have to look for him. I have to. Somebody should be teaching me to be an Auror so I can kill him right away! And where are we?" He looked at his surroundings. This was an old house. Mold crept up the walls and the pungent odor of rotting wood filled the air. The wallpaper was faded and peeling; the carpet was threadbare. There were no windows.

"We're in a safe house. Albus set up a few before his death."

"Where are we, though? Geographically?"

Flitwick sighed and shook his tiny head. "It doesn't matter."

"THEN TELL ME!"

"Fine," Flitwick said, looking Harry in the eye. "We're in Sudbury."

"Sudbury? Why?"

"Why not?" Flitwick squeaked. "We're staying here for a few weeks, then Kingsley will be taking you to another safe house. I don't know where it is-" he said, anticipating Harry's question, "so it's no use asking."

A pregnant silence filled the little room as Harry heavily dropped himself onto an old sofa. As he landed, a cloud of dust puffed out of the cushion. Once again he looked around. Three doors and an arch connected to this dilapidated room. One of the doors had a letter slot. Another was open just enough to reveal a tiny toilet. The third was shut completely, but Harry assumed that it was some kind of bedroom. The arch opened to a small, dirty kitchen.

"Harry, I have something important to ask of you," Flitwick said tentatively after a few moments. Harry looked at him curiously. "I need you to get a Muggle job. It's unsafe to use magic-"

"Why?"

"You-Know-Who controls the Ministry, as you know, and the Ministry has always been able to keep tabs on where magic is being performed. We don't want to be found. Anyway, I obviously can't blend in with the Muggles and we need money for food."

"What about house elves? I have a house elf who could bring us things."

"House elves are magical creatures, and while they use a different type of magic that we don't fully understand, if they pop to one location frequently, the Ministry will figure out what's going on. Like I said, we have to keep you alive; in order to do that, we need to keep you hidden."

"Just until Vol- You-Know-Who shows up again, right?" Harry asked.

"Until an opportunity to defeat You-Know-Who once and for all is presented," Flitwick sighed. "And no one knows how long that might be."

It was certainly longer than Harry suspected it would be. May turned to June and June to July before any news reached his ears.

He returned from his petty job at the Town Mayor's office one evening and found the front door to the little house he shared with Flitwick ajar. Peering in carefully and with his ears pricked up, Harry noticed a familiar personage. "Kingsley!" he shouted, rushing in and slamming the rickety door.

"Hello, Harry," Kingsley said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "How have you been?"

Harry snorted. "I've been stuck without magic for weeks and have no idea where You-Know-Who might be, or how to kill him, and I've had no news whatsoever. It's been very frustrating."

"I'm sure." Kingsley's deep voice resonated off of the shabby walls. "I'm here to take you elsewhere, Harry."

"You-Know-Who has been spotted?" Harry asked anxiously.

"No," Flitwick interjected slowly, "but there is word of him."

"Rumors, anyway," Kingsley added. He let his dark eyes bore into Harry's, as if to relay the gravity of the situation. "People are disappearing left and right. Kids, even. It's not pretty out there, Harry. There haven't been any open attacks, but there are things that indicate You-Know-Who is gaining strength. Our contacts on the continent say they're having similar problems with disappearances. Also, people who have been suspected of Dark Magic in the past are going. Muggle-killings are becoming more frequent, and more Muggle-borns are being found dead every day."

"Hermione?" Harry whispered. Suddenly he wished he didn't know the goings-on of the world outside the little house.

"Last we heard, she was in Australia with her parents," Kingsley replied, resting a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. "That was only two weeks ago. There hasn't been much news from the Aussies; I think that's a good sign."

Harry nodded. "The Weasleys?"

"Safe and sound," Flitwick piped up. "They're not doing well, but they're safe… for the most part."

"That's something," Harry agreed. "Wait, what do you mean 'for the most part'?"

"We don't know where Bill and Fleur are," Kingsley said gravely. "Charlie is safely in Romania- or, as safe as one can be when handling dragons," he smiled.

"You mean that no one is at Shell Cottage?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"Maybe they're with Ron's Aunt Muriel," Harry suggested. Flitwick hung his head. "What?"

"No one can find Muriel, either," Flitwick mumbled. "The Weasleys are blood traitors, Harry; remember what You-Know-Who thinks of blood traitors."

"Don't be so pessimistic, Filius," Kingsley interjected sharply, seeing the near-horrified expression painted on Harry's face. "Harry, why don't you gather your things? We need to be going."

"Going?" Harry asked. "I thought I was staying here, in Dumbledore's safe house."

"We can't keep you in one place for too long," Flitwick explained in his tiny squeak of a voice. "You've been here since May; we should have moved you sooner."

Harry nodded and went to gather his few belongings. "Kingsley," he asked, "how are we getting… wherever? We can't Apparate; are we taking brooms?"

"Muggle transport, actually." Kingsley grinned widely. "I've taken care of everything."

Kingsley's idea of 'taking care' of things was stealing a Muggle car and driving it almost 70 kilometers to London.

"Kingsley," Harry queried, "why London? There are so many Wizarding places here."

"We're hiding in plain sight," Kingsley answered.

"What if You-Know-Who thought we'd do that?"

"We have to hope that he hasn't considered it," he replied grimly, furrowing his brow. "We're in Fitzrovia; there's a lot going on here. It will be easy to get lost in crowds if that becomes necessary." Harry nodded dumbly and focused on the buildings around him. "In addition, we're near some embassies; some of those have portraits in them. That's how I got what little information I have."

"Whoa," Harry suddenly gasped. "What's that building?" He pointed to a tall cylindrical office building with odd shapes carved out near the top. The letters 'BT' adorned the pinnacle. Had he seen this before? It looked oddly familiar.

"That's the BT Tower," Kingsley explained. Harry went red; he should have figured. "It was Unplottable for quite some time, but a Squib let it slip after she showed some pictures to her husband." He laughed heartily and turned a little too sharply. "Here we are: home sweet home."

July came to a close. For the first time since he was eleven, Harry received no birthday presents from anyone at Hogwarts. Kingsley took him to the Fitzroy Tavern and Harry pretended to be interested in the history Kingsley was telling him about the area. Very little information came through the embassy portraits; two half-blood siblings had disappeared without a trace in El Salvador and a Muggle-born was found dead in Croatia. The authorities couldn't be certain of the cause of death; aside from being dead, she was perfectly healthy. Harry kept telling himself that no news was good news, but he felt a nagging in his stomach. He wanted to do something, to be productive.

"Not a chance, Harry."

"Huh?" he jumped. Kingsley must have been using Legilimency on him.

"The most important thing for you to do is to stay alive. Am I clear?" Kingsley asked sternly. Harry mumbled in assent and took a gulp of pop. "Here's something that will cheer you up," Kingsley smiled. Harry looked at him suspiciously. Happy? "You'll be going to stay with the Weasleys in September. I just found out today."

"I get to see Ron and George and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny?" he exclaimed, spilling his drink down his shirt.

"Don't forget Percy," he was reminded.

"Yes, and Percy, too," Harry agreed. He didn't want to welcome Percy back into his life just yet, but he was forced to care by circumstance. Percy, snobby or not, was family, just as Fred had been.

That night and several nights thereafter, Harry dreamed of the Weasleys as they had been when he was fourteen. They all sat around a cramped table behind the Burrow and talked of the Quidditch World Cup and a surprise that would happen at Hogwarts that year. Then the dream would fast-forward to Bill and Fleur's wedding. Bill's face was scarred almost beyond recognition and George was missing an ear. The dream always ended as the screams of the guests began. He was grateful for that.

September first. They drove in silence, only speaking when they stopped for petrol and Kingsley asked if Harry would like a snack.

September second.

"Something's wrong."

"What?" Harry asked. "How do you know?"

"I can just tell," Kingsley replied gravely. He exited the vehicle and began to walk towards a house that should have danger signs around it. Harry followed, having to take two steps for every one of Kingsley's. Carefully they entered the building. "This is where they were supposed to be, Harry."

Harry shuddered. Wouldn't there have been news of the disappearance of six fully grown wizards? His insides turned to ice. There was little furniture; all of it looked like it had been pushed and jostled. Next to a fallen three-legged table was a broken bowl peppered by vegetables and a few letters. And- a letter!

"Kingsley, look!" Harry pointed.

Kingsley crouched next to the broken flatware and picked up a broth-stained piece of lined paper. "'Edward the Elder's cross with ick'. What on earth could that mean?" he murmured.

Harry screwed up his face. Edward the Elder… he knew that name. "Hertfordshire!" he exclaimed. "They're in Hertfordshire!"

"How do you know?" Kingsley asked, one eyebrow arched.

"That's where Edward the Elder was from!" he explained, exasperated. "I don't know what 'ick' means, but I'm sure they're in Hertfordshire." A look of determination crossed his face. "We have to get there, now. You said something was wrong; we can't take a chance on their safety."

"Calm down, Harry," Kingsley commanded quietly. He pondered. "It could be a trap."

"I'm willing to take that chance," Harry said firmly. "I have two of the three Hallows; that has to count for something- an advantage, if it is a trap." Kingsley pulled the car keys from his pocket and moved toward the splintered door. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WE MIGHT BE TOO LATE IF WE DRIVE!"

"There's no other way to get there, Harry."

"We're Apparating."

"No, we can't."

"We can, people just won't! It's the fastest way, Kingsley, and you know it."

"It isn't safe-"

"Are you coming with me or not? Because I'm Apparating whether you want me to or not."

"Okay," Kingsley solemnly agreed. "You're very stubborn, you know. That's not a compliment. To Hertfordshire."

Yeah, no Ginny or Tom this time. I had to set up a future important scenario. There's TONS of Tom next time, I promise.

No one guessed the meaning of our new DE's name last chapter (it's a faefolk name associated with powerful magics), so I've got an easier one for you this time: why did I talk about the BT Tower? When did Harry see it before? Here's some incentive for a correct answer: write a line, serious or silly, whatever you like, and I'll plop it into a future chapter. This extends to everybody who gets it right, not just the first person. Put your line and guess in a REVIEW or a PM.

Next Time: "I'm not a heartless monster. I can be munificent," Tom replied. Ginny snorted. "You have something to say, little one?" "No," Ginny answered saccharinely. "I was stifling a cough."


	10. I

Right, so I'm a bad person. This is the third-shortest chapter, barely breaking 1600 words.

Here's the deal: I'm actually a professional writer and I have a serious deadline rapidly approaching. This means that every-Saturday posts won't be happening... updates will quite possibly be more frequent. I have to manage my time properly and all that jazz. I'm not one of those people who just lets the story run (everything's all planned out, etc.), so it's just a matter of typing. I need to establish a regular work schedule and write fiction around that. I'm not abandoning this or even putting it on the personal back burner, I'm just not going to post at regular intervals anymore. Updates might happen two or three times a week, or sometimes maybe twice a month. I don't know yet. It all depends on the damn work schedule. I always thought that writing for a living would be great. A few words of advice: have a "real" job as well! Writing pays close to nothing.

REVIEWS fuel my fiction fire, so please click the little button at the bottom of the chapter and say (er... type) a few words, positive or negative. I respond to all signed reviews, even if I only say 'thanks'.

Speaking of reviews, I didn't get many for the last chapter. I'm most certainly grateful for the ones I did get, but this makes me think that perhaps I did something y'all didn't like. I'm not the type to beg for reviews, but I would really like to know what H lacked (besides Tom & Ginny ^^).

Alphabet Soup

I

I Put A Spell On You

"Silly children," Tom chastised. He was smiling, his eyes were sparkling. "You thought you could trick Lord Voldemort? I must say, it was brave of you to try- brave but stupid. I admit, I'm impressed that you two managed to keep up your ruse for as long as you did." Ginny and Neville sat frozen in hard chairs; they were surrounded by blank walls. Neville's eyes were on the floor. He was shuffling his feet nervously. Ginny sat, hands folded in her lap, looking like a defiant statue. "Admiration aside, we need to discuss a punishment."

"Discuss?" Neville choked out, sweating despite the chill in the room.

"Why, yes. I'm not a heartless monster. I can be munificent," Tom replied. Ginny snorted. "You have something to say, little one?"

"No," Ginny answered saccharinely. "I was stifling a cough." Neville elbowed her in the ribs.

"You see? Longbottom's got the gist of it. You know better than to sass, little Ginny. Now, what sort of punishment do you think is deserved?"

"I think you should be castrated for trying to exploit the sexuality of young people," Ginny answered very calmly. She stared into Tom's eyes fiercely. "Did you ever get reprimanded for exploiting that eleven-year-old a few years back?"

"That wasn't my proudest moment," Tom stated, raising his eyebrows. "I could have done so much more. What a wasted opportunity."

Ginny rose and balled her hands into fists. "Oh, that must be really hard for you to reflect on, Tom," she scathed. "Memories of what could have been. Unfortunately, I had to deal with the things that actually happened. You have no idea how long it took me to come to terms with that-"

"I don't think you've accepted it at all, little one," Tom smirked. "You wouldn't be so fervent if you'd really gotten over that delightful experiment of mine."

In a meek act of defiance, Ginny sunk back into her chair.

"Tired?"

"You starve and near exhaust me, Tom," she sighed angrily, arms crossed over her chest.

He ignored her and turned his attention back to Neville. "Why, you're trembling. You mustn't do that. Little Ginny said that you're very brave, dear boy. Don't make her a liar."

"Don't talk about Ginny like that," Neville asserted, lifting his chin and looking at Tom's face for the first time. His eyes widened a bit for the slightest moment, but he continued to stare.

"Yes, I already know that I look like Potter," Tom said through gritted teeth. "Your defense of Ginny is sweet, but she can take care of herself. She's been remarkably stubborn since the day I met her. You have talent as well; I experienced it myself. You killed Nagini, correct?"

"I sliced her open."

"And with Gryffindor's sword, no less! Remarkable. That damned sword has slighted me twice by children identified by the Prophecy. No matter. To the point: how shall I punish you, brave Neville?"

"Do what you wa- wait, how did you "experience" me killing You-Know-Who's snake? And what about Harry using that sword?"

"It doesn't matter, really. Not anymore." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Have you ever faced a Boggart, Longbottom?"

"Yes," he tentatively murmured. "Why?"

"What did you see?"

"Severus Snape," Neville replied proudly. It wasn't shameful to be afraid of a man who turned traitor and had even fooled Dumbledore.

"When you were thirteen," Tom remarked dryly. "What do you see now?"

"I… I don't know what I'd see."

"Tom, where are you going with this?" Ginny interrupted angrily. Tom didn't so much as bat an eyelash at her.

"As I don't have a Boggart on hand, I'll have to make you see on your own. Both of you." He pulled out his wand and twirled it in his long fingers absently. "There's a little spell, created by Severus Snape, in fact, that will make you relive the truth, but only your worst truths. Truth is a suitable punishment for lies, don't you think?" He smiled darkly at Ginny. "I have a feeling that I know your worst truths already, little Ginny, but I'll be interested to see Longbottom's." He pointed his wand at Neville's forehead and placidly murmured, "In veritibus."

Neville's body went slack and slid onto the cold floor. He immediately began screaming, crying, and shouting, "No, no! Please! Don't! No!"

"What are you doing to him?!" Ginny yelled. "Stop it this instant! Punish me; it was all my idea!"

"I am punishing you," Tom replied, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Causing him pain causes you pain. It's as simple as that."

"You're disgusting, Tom, do you know that?!"

"I pride myself on it, actually." He raised his voice to speak. "It's rather loud in here with all of the screaming, don't you think?"

Ginny's breath came in hard gasps as she watched Neville cry and rub his eyes as he screamed. "Stop this, Tom! Please!" Tom just smiled and tugged on a lock of his midnight hair. "Finite!" she shouted. "Finite incantatem! Tom, why isn't my spell working!?"

"Mine is stronger."

"I hate you, Tom Riddle! I positively hate you!"

"What a shame," he mock pouted. "A few more minutes should do the trick."

"Please, Tom, I'm begging you, do it to me instead-"

"This is the second time you've begged me for something, little Ginny. I didn't yield six years ago and I shan't yield now. Oh, Ginny, you're crying! How pathetic."

She launched herself at him and beat his chest with her white-knuckled fists. He didn't bother to stop her; it didn't hurt in the least.

That night, as he examined his nude body in the mirror, he was rather shocked to find a small bruise on the upper left part of his trunk. He poked the purple spot, no larger than a two-pound coin, and felt a dull pain. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been physically injured and couldn't fathom how Ginny's tiny fists could have harmed him. He fumed; it had taken him months to return to this youthful, beautiful body and she had marred it in what couldn't have been ninety seconds of little punches.

I rather liked the last paragraph. What did you think? You know you want to press the REVIEW button and let me know. My crystal ball is currently in the shop (somehow a tarot card and several hunks of tea leaves got stuck inside it. Is this an omen??), which means that I don't know what you're thinking. You have to tell me!

...and yeah, I know I'm entirely too cruel to Neville.

Oh, the spell I invented means "within the truths" in Latin.

AHQRider was the first to figure out the reference to the BT Tower in the last chapter. Harry & Ron fly over it in "Chamber of Secrets"! I was asked to provide a little challenge after every chapter; I don't know if I can for *every* chapter, especially with my new schedule looming, but here's one: SPOT THE DAVID BOWIE REFERENCE. Kore, if you're still reading this: it'll be too easy for you, so you can't win the prize =P The prize is the same as last time: get the right answer and you get to write a line, any line, that will show up in a future chapter. BTW, Selkie- your idea comes up next time ^^

Next Time: "Neville and Draco were nowhere to be found." Also... enchanted undergarments.


	11. J

Hullo! For those of you who celebrate a holiday 'round this time of year, happy holiday of your choice! I hope your festivities didn't suck. Onward, I suppose... This isn't nearly as short as the last one, I promise ^^

Ginny & Neville have a chat about inner beauty; Ginny & Draco talk duty; Ginny & Tom talk politics. In other words, this one is dialogue-heavy.

Alphabet Soup

J

Juxtaposition

Tom had initially been correct in his assumption that he knew her worst memories, those dark truths she hid in the back of her mind. It was only natural that he would know; he put them there. Then… after watching Neville writhe in agony for a crime she had instigated, she felt like she could look back on her first year with joy compared to what she had caused. I should have known better. He said he'd go along with my stupid plan, but I shouldn't have been so selfish as to suggest it in the first place. I should have known… But the sick truth was that she had known that something horrible would happen. She glossed over the possibility, hoping that they wouldn't get caught. Sure, she had warned Neville and he nonetheless acquiesced, but the blame was on her. Selfish.

Dinner that evening was different than any that Ginny had experienced since she was first brought to the complex almost three months ago. For one thing, Neville and Draco were nowhere to be found. For another, the seating arrangements were different. The place card to her left no longer read "Dmitri Yurovski" but "Karen Hess"; Neville's name no longer appeared on the card to her right. Instead, foreign characters were printed. Ginny wondered why the alternating gender seating system had been changed. A third change was the subtraction of Death Eaters in the room. There was only one. She recognized the man; the frizzy brown hair sticking out from behind his mask marked him as de Dannan.

An unfamiliar face walked into the room. She had her yellow hair tied in a loose bun that threatened to fall at any moment and her light blue eyes were wide. She saw that there were assigned place settings and, shyly, she asked de Dannan, "Wo ist me-"

"Silencio."

The girl looked shocked at her sudden and unanticipated lack of voice. Had she never been magically silenced? Tearfully she made her way around the dingy dining room until she found her name. This was Karen Hess. She snuffled.

"Silencio."

An Asian-looking girl came around, not as surprised by her forced silence, and sat to Ginny's right. Neville should be sitting there. What have I gotten him into?

It was two days before she saw Neville again. The captives were in the outdoor exercise area despite the biting cold; they were grateful for the fresh air. As soon as Ginny saw him, she ran to him and hugged him. "Neville, I'm so sorry! I can't even begin to apologize- there's nothing I could ever do that would make up for my behavior-"

"It's okay, Ginny," Neville replied with a slight smile.

"No it isn't! I got you in trouble, I got you tortured!"

"It wasn't torture, Gin," he tried to assure her; his grimace betrayed him.

"I saw you writhing on the floor, Neville. I heard you screaming for god knows how long-"

"The bad part was really these last two days. The after-effects of the spell caused me to become nauseated. I've been getting sick. It's not like they used the Cruciatus Curse on me."

"That's almost what it looked like," Ginny replied quietly. She looked him in the eyes, wanting desperately to know what Tom had made him see. She didn't ask; if Neville wanted her to know, he would tell her. His eyes were sad and filmy.

"It wasn't. Don't worry, Ginny. It was my decision. You didn't force me to do anything. I don't blame you at all for what happened," he assured her and pulled her into a one-armed hug.

"Did anyone tell you about the changes going on?" Ginny asked. Her conscience didn't want to remain on the topic of her mistake.

"You mean the new arrivals from Austria and Korea?"

"Oh, that's where they're from? I couldn't figure it out. One girl's name tag was in weird…" she paused. "Neville, we don't get to sit by each other during meals anymore."

"Why not?" he asked, angry.

"Probably because of our little stunt. I have new girls on either side of me now."

"Girls? I thought You-Know-Who had that boy-girl-boy-girl thing."

"Not anymore, apparently. At least, not for me."

"What do you mean?"

"The rest of the group still sits that way. I wonder why," Ginny mused. "And Malfoy hasn't been in there for days."

Neville's face drained of color. "That's because he took the Dark Mark."

"What?! How do you know?!"

"While I was sick, he came to my room to show it off. He's probably showing anyone he sees."

"What a prat!" Ginny fumed. "And to think- remember, back at Hogwart's- after To- er, You-Know-Who died, or we thought he did? Remember, Malfoy was sitting with his mum and the rest of the survivors! He even looked sorry. God, how could I have even entertained the thought for a moment?" She tugged on a lock of her dark red hair and began to think aloud. "Why is it that- how is it that wicked people can be born beautiful? It isn't at all fair. Bellatrix Lestrange-" Neville flinched "-has those eyes, the Malfoys could have stepped out of a portrait, and Tom is just… well, you saw him. And he's absolutely vile. And then there are normal, average, or maybe even ugly people who are so kind. Eloise Migden was virtually an angel and she wasn't exactly pretty." She sighed. "I'm sorry; that last bit sounded really petty."

"I agree with you," Neville nodded. "I don't mean about Eloise, but about how people look. Gran always said that beauty is something on the inside, but it would be so much easier if there was some way of telling by looking at somebody."

"Well, if you look at some people's forearms you're able to tell," Ginny grinned. "No matter how pretty Malfoy's face might be, that mark on his arm shows him to be disgusting."

"Speak of the devil," Neville murmured. Malfoy was walking towards them. He walked with two others. Instead of being at the front of the trio, he was flanking a grown Death Eater. He was surly and put-out; his arms were crossed over his chest and he was scowling.

His eyes burned holes into Ginny's and he smirked. "Did I hear you correctly, Weaselette? You think I'm attractive?"

Ginny snorted and hoped that the blush rising to her cheeks could be interpreted as a result of the cold. "You obviously have selective hearing. Did being demoted to the position of 'lackey' cloud your cognitive functions?"

"Shut up," Malfoy spat.

"Touched a nerve, have I?" Ginny's hair whipped in the wind. She idly noted that she needed a haircut. "What's it like for you, ferret?" she breathed. "Do you feel like you're at the bottom of the chain? Not so smug anymore, I bet."

"I can never be at the bottom of any social hierarchy so long as a Weasley exists," he fumed, reaching for his wand. The hand of the adult Death Eater shot out in front of him before he could move.

"Choose battles wisely, Malfoy," a soft feminine voice commanded. "Rushing into anything increases the likelihood of mistakes." She turned her masked face to Ginny. "You might want to ponder that as well, Weasley. In point of fact, I think you ought not be aggressive at all, even verbally. You have two strikes against you already."

Ginny was dumbfounded to say the least. This was a rational Death Eater. This was someone who thought things through. This was someone potentially dangerous for precisely those reasons. Have actual standards been put in place for hiring now? This is weird. At any rate, she seems to know something I don't. I'll need to be careful around her.

Ginny nodded once as Malfoy, the senior Death Eater, and the other "trainee" walked away. Malfoy turned back to look at her contemptuously; Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.

Jacobsite

It was odd, Ginny thought, that Malfoy was being somewhat civil to her. She knew it was only because his …trainer? …mentor? told him to be, but it was downright weird. As much as she hated to admit it, she was a little more comfortable around him. The older Death Eater wasn't always with him, but even when her presence was missing, Draco seemed to be almost kind.

"I wonder if a Grymble has invaded his brain," Luna mused one day.

"A what?" Ginny asked.

"A Grymble," she repeated. "They're little creatures that look like roaches. They can crawl into your brain when you're asleep and change your personality." She tilted her head to the side and a flash of curiosity came to her large blue eyes. "Or maybe You-Know-Who commanded the Death Eaters to be nice. Grymbles are more likely, I think."

Ginny shuddered; she didn't particularly want to ponder the image of a roach climbing into her ear while she slept.

"Whatever the case, I'm not complaining."

Luna nodded in agreement.

If Ginny thought Malfoy's civility was unnerving, she was completely floored by his behavior later that day. As she finished her plum pudding and left her chair, he accosted her.

"Weasley- Ginny, I need to talk to you," he muttered. He was shifting his weight from one leg to the other and picking his fingernails. Ginny glared and held a finger to her lips, reminding him of the no-talking policy.

"I have given him permission to speak with you," the soft voice of the female Death Eater said. Ginny nodded.

Draco wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her into an alcove in the hall. "Weas- Ginny, this isn't easy for me, so keep your mouth shut until I'm done talking."

"Fine," she agreed shortly.

"Look, you're a blood traitor, but you're from a long line of purebloods." He looked into her eyes for a flicker of a second before continuing. "My recent promotion has forced certain responsibilities on me, and I haven't got much of a choice here. So, since you're a pureblood and not entirely bad-looking, I choose you."

"For what?" Ginny asked with curiosity. Draco flushed.

"I already told you, this isn't easy for me. Don't make me spell it out for you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you having me on or are you really so dense?"

"Dense, I suppose," Ginny snapped. She began to tap her foot.

"Don't you remember why we're here? And your little plan with Longbottom- Seriously, Ginny. I know you aren't that dumb."

And then it dawned on her. "You're asking me to… with you?"

"I don't have a choice! The Dark Lord gave all the Death Eaters this new 'assignment'. I don't like it either, but I told you, you're a pureblood and sort of pretty, so I-"

"I won't! I can't!" Malfoy looked shocked. Ginny wracked her brain for a plausible reason to turn him down. "I can't because my brothers… my brothers invented hexed skivvies! You'd get hurt pretty badly if you even tried anything!"

"That's one of the most ridiculous excuses I've ever heard," Draco snapped. "The Dark Lord might be willing to forget your past mistakes if you do this," he pled. "I'm being really nice by asking; we don't have to, you know! He just wants his little pureblood babies. I'll get in serious trouble and you can get out of trouble. It's mutually beneficial."

"I… I… Malfoy, you're off your nut!" Ginny exclaimed.

He narrowed his eyes. "If you don't take me up on this offer, someone else will come along. They probably won't be thoughtful enough to ask. Do you want to go through something like that, you stupid girl?"

"It's almost like you care about my well-being," Ginny mocked, "but I know better. Find yourself another girl." She spun on her heel and began to walk away when she heard the first syllable of an Unforgivable Curse leave his lips.

"Im-"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a deeply familiar voice stated flatly. Ginny kept walking. "Come over here, little Ginny."

She cursed under her breath and inhaled deeply before she turned to face Tom. "Yes?" she asked sweetly. Oh god, Tom is going to make me comply.

"Malfoy the younger propositioning little Ginny Weasley? I never thought I'd see the day." Upon hearing his voice, the soft-spoken Death Eater came to her master's side.

Ginny remained still and silent. Tom pulled her closer to him and put his arm around her. She squirmed until he his grip on her shoulder became painful.

"Well, now you've seen it," Draco sneered.

"Watch your tongue, Malfoy," the woman snapped. "Never speak to your superiors that way."

"It's quite alright, my dear," Tom smiled. "He doesn't know to whom he speaks."

Ginny stared at Tom in shock. "He doesn't?!"

"No, little one. Only a select few do." He dismissed the senior Death Eater with a wave of his hand. She bowed and backed away slowly. "Now, Malfoy. It seems you're taking your assignment seriously. Lord Voldemort is pleased." Both Draco and Ginny flinched at the sound of the name. Tom grinned; he would never tire of that reaction. "You seem to be under the impression that Miss Weasley here is an option for you. She is, however, already spoken for."

"What?!" Ginny shrieked. Panicking, she flailed around, trying in vain to escape Tom's iron grip. "Who?!"

"Why, me, of course."

"I pick Draco," Ginny hastily responded.

Tom chuckled and stared down Malfoy. "Ginny has been mine for years now, and I really don't like to share."

"I was never 'yours', you psycho!"

Tom frowned. "Leave us, Malfoy."

Wholly unnerved, Draco did as he was told.

"Now, Ginny dear, why would you lie so? You've been mine since you were eleven years old."

"No, I'm not, never have been, and never will be yours, Tom," Ginny protested. She once again tried to free herself but that only served to irritate Tom further. He backed her into a corner of the little alcove and stood menacingly over her.

"You and I both know that's not true. You'll always belong to me. Soon everyone in the world will belong to me. I've told you before, little one, I have a soft spot for you- because you were mine years before I regained that hideous body. Don't take that for granted."

"Tom," Ginny began slowly. "How did you get that body?"

"You already asked me that, Ginny. The answer now is the same as it was before: you don't need to know." He took a few steps back. "I admire your tenacity. You would be a useful member of my team."

"Never."

"I thought as much," Tom sighed. "Ginny, you may think that what I do is morally wrong, but you're mistaken. You perceive my actions as wicked because you were taught to do so. If you were to look at things objectively, you'd agree with me. The end justifies the means, little one. Think on that." His demeanor was chillingly calm and she almost thought that his smile was genuine. "You're one of a kind, Gin. Think about what I said; you'll come to the correct conclusion sooner or later." He gently ushered her out of the alcove. Before she could walk away, Tom kissed the top of her head. "Run along now."

Ginny walked to her room as if in a trance. As she sat on her bed, she thought. She wasn't thinking about Tom's politics as he had instructed, but rather on his attitude.

What the hell was THAT about?

 

Happy good fun times?

Suckish hatey times?

Let me know either way in a Review or PM!

The winner of the last challenge was MoreEverything, who noticed the David Bowie reference. This time, I want you to tell me the meaning of the word 'Jacobsite' WITHOUT cheating. The prize is the same: a line of your choice to be used in a future chapter.

Special thanks go to Selkie for putting the idea of Gred & Forge making enchanted undergarments into my head.


	12. K

So… I took a very long time with this, didn't I? The whole "real life" thing sucks in a huge way. I shouldn't even be typing this right now; deadlines, deadlines, deadlines! I should be typing my actual book so I can have money. Blast it all! Anywho, herein we have much inner dialogue and Ginny's response to the events in the last chapter. Please drop a review if you enjoy this. Please drop a review if you don't enjoy this so that I can make positive adjustments. Without further ado…

Alphabet Soup

K

Kiss?

He was messing with her. He had to be. There was no rational explanation for Tom's behavior. He was candid with her about his family on Halloween, he occasionally engaged in little chats, he saved her from Malfoy… he kissed her.

He kissed you.

"No he didn't," Ginny told her inner voice.

He pressed his lips on you. That's a kiss.

"He put his lips on my head. That's not a kiss."

Just because it wasn't on your lips, that doesn't make it any less of a kiss…

"Will you shut up already? Tom did not kiss me."

Then what would you call what he did?

"…a manipulative peck on the head?"

Kiss.

"Not a kiss."

Kiss. Tom Riddle kissed you.

"No, he didn't! He was probably just trying to piss off Malfoy."

…by kissing you after Malfoy left? That doesn't make sense.

"Augh!" she shouted. Her inner voice was right. Tom had kissed her on the head. The burning question was 'why?' Why would Lord Voldemort show any affection to little Ginevra Weasley, a witch with no extraordinary power? Why would an attractive man like Tom pay any attention to plain old Ginny? Why, why, why?

The only conclusion to which she could come was manipulation of some sort. The Tom she knew had employed charm and flirtation to use her once before, but she was a ready-made tool for that situation. She was a lonely little girl at a new school who needed a friend, and he was the proverbial shoulder to cry on. He needed a vessel. The puzzle pieces weren't that hard to match. What did Tom hope to gain from her now by means of wit? He had almost everything. He had most of the world catering to his whims. What did she have to offer? Ginny could think of nothing. The only logical assumption was that Tom was confusing her for his own entertainment. Right?

"Okay, let's assume that everything he's said is true," Ginny reasoned aloud. "He didn't have a family and he likes you." She snorted. "Well, maybe the first bit could be true, but not the second bit. Someone who likes you doesn't behave that way. You don't hold hostage the people you like. You don't claim ownership over people you like. You don't- okay, well, you do kiss people you like, but not the way Tom did. I don't know if that even counts as a kiss."

I thought we went over this.

"Oh, shut up," she snapped at herself. "And what's with me 'belonging' to him or whatever he said? I don't belong to anyone, least of all him. He could have me locked in a dungeon and brand his initials on me and I still wouldn't be his in any way. He's crazy." She closed her eyes, dreaming of sleep. "I was his, though," she whispered. "I was. I did whatever he wanted. People almost died because he owned me." Tears prickled the corners of her eyes; she was thoroughly disgusted with herself.

Kaleidoscope

In her dreams she saw a lot of things that she saw when she was eleven, which is to say, very little. As a child possessed, her memories often consisted of only colors and the odd vivid image or sound. As a woman in chains, that's what her mind showed her. She dreamed of hissing mixed with short shrieks, fuzzy white spots and green haze, and a voice more clear than any other sound. It had been a beacon into forgetfulness; now the sound woke her like a church bell at a funeral.

She sat bolt upright, forehead smeared with sweat, and looked around her. Everything was blue, and that disturbed Ginny now. She had just seen piercing blue eyes tell her in no uncertain terms that she was to strangle those roosters this instant. She was relieved to see that there were no feathers anywhere near her. She was seventeen, not eleven. Why do I still have these nightmares?

Restlessly she wandered into her toilet. She splashed water on her face and ran a comb through her red tangles. Ginny braced her arms on the sink and had a staring competition with her reflection. The woman on the other side of the glass won, Ginny decided. She could have been pretty, that woman, if circumstance had spared her. If she hadn't said that one stupid word, this woman would be beautiful. If she hadn't said… okay. "Okay, Tom," the little girl had written. That was when the wan look graced the countenance and the dark circles pooled beneath the eyes. It wasn't when Ginny said "Voldemort" that the world began to spin; the cogs and wheels had been set in motion long before that.

Okay, Tom.

Ginny shook her head. That was over, gone. It couldn't be fixed. Right?

Keeping Conversation

For some reason, chatter echoed off of the walls as Ginny made her way to breakfast. She cocked her head and tried to listen to the loudest voices as she walked.

"…because it isn't about your comfort. Yet you question."

"Intolerable!" rang the unmistakable accent of de Danann. "I have no desire to hear these children prattle on."

"You would do well to keep your opinions in your head where they belong. That way the Dark Lord can only hear them if he so wishes," said the strong voice of the mysteriously rational Death Eater. She flourished past Ginny with nothing but a curt nod.

Ginny walked slowly into the dining hall. She turned to de Danann curiously. "M. de Danann," she began slowly, "did I hear her right?"

"You did, Ginny!" Luna stood before her wearing the largest grin she had ever seen. "You-Know-Who decided we may talk to each other." She pulled Ginny aside. "That frizzy man isn't too happy about it, though."

"I can tell," Ginny marveled. "Can we pick where we sit, too?"

"No," Luna sighed dreamily. "One step at a time, I suppose."

Despite having permission to speak to others, Ginny couldn't have a conversation. Karen, the girl to her left, only spoke German, and the girl to her right (whose name she still didn't know) only spoke Korean. The din of excitement cancelled her ability to talk to anyone more than one seat away from hers. Some privilege. I don't even get to exercise it. She sighed and picked at her sprouts.

She decided to wait until most people left before rising; that way she could speak with her friends, or even make new friends (who spoke English). Unfortunately, many others had the same idea. She frowned slightly and made her way back to her room.

Tom was standing in the middle of her bedroom, hands placidly folded behind his back. He smiled at the sight of her. "Fancy meeting you here, little one!"

"Don't be stupid, Tom," Ginny replied. "It's my room."

A light sparked in his deep blue eyes. "And here I thought I was being cheerful."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "What is it you want, Tom?"

"Just a bit of conversation with my little Ginny."

"I'm not your anything," Ginny scornfully replied. "And I'm certainly not going to be one of your… pureblood baby machines. I'd sooner be tortured."

Tom smirked. "It is fortunate, then, that I don't want you to be a- what did you call it?- baby machine."

She looked at him sharply. "Then what was the deal with Malfoy?"

"Do sit down, Ginny," Tom insisted politely. "You needn't be on edge."

She sat. "You didn't answer my question."

"I don't have to; you forget to whom you're speaking. At any rate, it looked like I was saving you from that sycophant. You should be grateful."

She locked eyes with him and flushed slightly. "I'm grateful; is that what you wanted to hear? Will you be leaving now?"

"No, no, sweet Ginny," he answered. "I was wondering if you thought about what I said."

Ginny was silent. She had been too busy arguing with herself to consider his political philosophies. Looking at the floor, she tried to divert the subject. "Why did you stop Malfoy?" she whispered.

"I'll take that as a no," Tom stated irritably. The familiar cold mask overtook his face. "Don't beat around the bush. You know the rules: promptly answer any question I ask. Shall I change my mind about you, then? Shall I give you over to Draco Malfoy? Surely you heard him trying to cast the Imperius curse on you. Now stop being a child and answer me."

"No, Tom," she snapped. "No, I didn't think about your speech. I had other things on my mind."

"What other things?" he pressed. When she hesitated, he took a fistful of her hair and forced her to look him in the face.

"Ow! Son of a bitch… That hurt, Tom!" The fire his gaze held told her that pain had been his intended result and that he was ready to inflict more of it. "I was thinking about other things you said, okay?"

He released her hair and gently patted her on the head. "Won't you elaborate, my dear?"

"I don't exactly have a choice," she sighed.

"No, but I do so love it when you have fits of temper. Now, continue…"

 

Yeah, it's a weird place to stop. The next chapter title is 'Lecture', but I felt that I've been dragging my heels enough and needed to post something, hence the beginning of the lecture. It's not one of my best (do you know how hard it was to find 'K' words that fit this story??), but I ask your forgiveness. I don't really have time to work on my fiction at the mo. My Real Life Work should be finished by mid-February; then this girl will be able to have some fun. Please drop a review. Y'all have left more than a hundred so far O_O Thanks so much.

Oh, NB: Something is wrong with my e-mail. If I didn't respond to a review I probably didn't get it or it was auto-sent to my spam folder. Sorry.


	13. L

So it took me WAY longer than expected... gomen nasai, minna-chan. My real-life writing sucks giant donkey balls and took over my life. In addition I'm a part-time student, so... yeah. Busy, busy, busy.

This is rather short. After such a long wait one would think I'd be able to post something substantially longer, but alack! It's also mostly ANGSTy but there's a bit of important jazz going on.

So many people liked the mysterious Death Eater that I decided to write her in and make her a somewhat important character. That required some changing of future chapters, but I'm kind of tired of calling her "the polite Death Eater" and such so it's worth it ;D

Please review if you think this sucks.

Please review if you like this.

Please review if you are ambivalent.

Alphabet Soup

L

Lecture

"Continue?"

Tom kept a smile on his face. She couldn't be sure, but Ginny thought he may have been genuinely amused by something. "Yes. Tell me what you've been pondering in place of what I told you to consider."

"I was thinking- don't pull my hair or anything, I'm just trying to find words!- um, about your behavior. And the stuff you said to Malfoy."

"Go on."

"Well, you…" she began frantically hunting for the proper words in her mind. "You…" No, don't sound accusatory, Gin. "It seemed like you were staking some kind of claim on me, and it's very confusing."

Tom frowned. Vertical lines formed between his midnight eyes as he considered her thoughts. "Why shouldn't I 'claim' you, dear Ginny? You belong to me, after all."

"No I don't!" she snapped. "No one owns me."

"You're mistaken about that, little Ginny," he smirked.

She bit her lip and cast her eyes downward. "How?"

"If I told you, your heart would break," he mock sobbed. "I simply couldn't do that to you, precious girl."

"Try me," Ginny challenged.

"I don't think I will. You shouldn't be asking such impertinent questions; it's not your place." He planted another small kiss atop her head and made for the door. "Don't think about Malfoy, just be grateful that I was there. In my absence, I want you to truly consider my position- the only logical position- on the current state of Wizardry. Good night, little one." He moved to leave the room.

"Tom- wait," Ginny blurted. "Please." He gave a half-smile and looked at her with interest. "Where are you going? You said you'd be absent."

"Oh, here and there," he grinned.

Ginny looked at him darkly. "You're going to do something wicked, aren't you?"

"That depends on your definition of wicked."

She paused and looked at her hands. "Someone's going to die."

"Kill one to save many; it's perfectly reasonable."

Ginny's jaw dropped. "Kill one… to save many? Tom, that's what people say about you."

"And you'd agree with them, wouldn't you?" he challenged.

She didn't respond; she didn't like the answer. "Can I ask… will you tell me…"

"Who?" Tom grinned. "Why, I've found your Harry, darling child."

Her face drained of all color. Numbly her lips formed the words. "You're going to kill Harry."

"That's the plan," he chuckled.

"You won't be able to," Ginny replied defiantly. Hands balled into fists, she began to rage. "You can't kill Harry! It's not possible!"

"Unless he's discovered the secret to immortality, then I assure you that I can and will kill him." His face became rigid; Ginny thought he looked like one of the statues at Hogwarts, cold and unmoving. "As I am the only one who knows that particular secret, I'm not terribly worried. Watch your tongue in the future, you insolent little child." Abruptly he strode out of her room and into the hallway.

"Harry," she whispered, "be safe."

Logic, Voldemort-style

Harry was going to die.

Tom was so powerful… being a Horcrux couldn't save Harry this time.

Harry was going to die.

Ginny shuddered. If he died, there would be no hope. So many had already given up and resigned themselves to being in captivity; upon hearing that the Boy-Who-Lived lived no longer, everyone would be filled with the same hollow sensation Neville had expressed all those months ago. Please don't let him die.

But… but Tom said that killing just one would benefit everybody. She shuddered, disgusted that the thought even brushed her brain in the slightest. Would he really stop being evil if Harry was dead? She laughed at her stupidity. He'd keep killing, she was sure of it. Even if he left Purebloods and gifted half-bloods alive, Muggles and Muggle-borns would still be eviscerated. Hermione, brilliant as she was, would see that flash of green light and be gone forever.

When Voldemort was destroyed, she reasoned, the Death Eaters dispersed. Maybe he just wants to get rid of the figurehead.

She wondered how long Tom would be gone. She wondered if he was lying to her. Maybe he hadn't located Harry after all. Maybe he had been bluffing, hoping that she would tell everyone else and crush their spirits. Maybe he'd been given faulty information and some Death Eater would die for leading him to the wrong place. One less Death Eater in the world. I'd like that.

With that thought she ran to her toilet and looked at herself in the mirror. She gazed harshly into her own eyes. She almost couldn't bear to see her reflection; this was the reflection of a girl who had just wished death upon a human being. She was as bad as any of them. Kill the enemy, kill them all- their ideas made them less than human. They wore those hideous masks, hiding their faces. There were no people under there, no mothers or fathers, brothers or sisters. There couldn't be. There just couldn't be. If those things were people, then she was condoning murder.

Ginny let out a dry sob and covered her eyes, ashamed. In Tom's eyes, people like Tonks were less than human. Ginny was as bad as him. "Oh, god!" She quivered and grabbed her hairbrush. She roughly ran it through her too-long red hair, hoping that the pain of tangles being snagged would relocate her thoughts. It didn't work, not for a moment.

Little Helper

The solitary sane Death Eater opened Ginny's door without knocking.

"What's got you so upset, Miss Weasley?" she asked calmly.

Ginny just glared at her and threw the hairbrush to the floor.

"I could hear you crying all the way down the hall," she explained. "Some wanted to issue a punishment, but I thought I'd see why you're causing this ruckus before any damage is done."

"What do you care?" Ginny snapped.

"I'll just send in someone else," the Death Eater sighed.

"No! W-wait!" Ginny beseeched. "Sorry, sorry. Please- what is it you're offering?"

"An ear."

An ear.

"My brother only has one ear thanks to you people," Ginny sneered. The Death Eater turned to leave but Ginny grabbed her robe. "I'm sorry, please don't let them hex me! I'll be polite."

"You're very endearing," the Death Eater stated. "I can see why the Dark Lord has taken such an interest in you." A pregnant silence reigned for a few moments. "Now, what's caused all of this crying?"

Ginny inhaled deeply. "Something Tom- er, You-Know-Who said."

"I know you call him by his old name. As he allows it and I already know he was given that name at birth, I don't mind if you call him that."

"Oh. Okay." She shifted uncomfortably. Behind the mask Ginny couldn't see this woman's eyes but sensed that she was staring, pressing her to explain herself. "Tom told me to think, and I don't like it. What he's made me think, that is."

"What's so horrible that it's made you cry?"

Ginny paused. "Behind that mask-" she shuddered "-you're a person."

A soft tinkling laughter filled the room. "Yes, I am. How is that bothersome?"

"You kill people… but so do they. It's easy to attack a mask, but you're human, just like any of my friends."

"Have you killed anyone, Ginny? Have you attacked any masks?"

"Attacked, yes. Killed, no." She faltered.

"But you wanted to," the Death Eater whispered.

"You killed my dad! And my brother! You killed people I know, my friends!"

"I'm afraid so. I'm not personally involved with the cleansing, but I know what you mean. Would it make you feel better to know that your friends and allies killed my brother?"

"No!" Ginny cried. "That's the problem! It doesn't make me feel better, and it should!"

"I see." She reached into an inside pocket of her robe and pulled out a vial of yellow liquid. "Drink this." Ginny didn't move to take it and eyes the container suspiciously. "It's just an extra-concentrated form of Dreamless Sleep. It might help calm you down."

"How do I know it isn't poison?"

"You don't," the Death Eater replied, "but I would be in a hell of a lot of trouble if the Dark Lord if I harmed you. I'm not about to take that risk. Drink up."

Tentatively Ginny uncorked the vial and slowly drank the potion. "It tastes like Dreamless Sleep."

"Goodnight, Miss Weasley. I hope you are a bit calmer in the morning."

"Wait!" Ginny called. The Death Eater looked at her. "What's your name?"

"My name is Mona. Sleep well."

So, yeah. That be that.

 

I have a question for y'all! I have all possible scenarios written up, but I'm having trouble deciding which to use. Here's the question: do you think Harry should live or die? I have the last word, obviously, but I'd still like to know your opinions.

Henceforth I'll probably be posting weekly again. I'm not making any promises, though that's the plan.


	14. M

Hi, y'all! I think this is kind of funny: it's May but this is the Christmas chapter. I really had fun with this one. Going back over it, I made myself laugh. Woo, I'm full of myself! I hope not. I hope there's a little amusement in here. I am so sorry that I haven't been giving individual replies to all REVIEWS, but I think something may be wrong with my e-mail account. I'm going to acknowledge everyone by name in the next chapter. I think that's a nice, succinct way to say thanks.

This took almost a month (!) for me to post b/c of real-life writing, business meetings, and trying to get a job that *isn't* writing.

Oh! Thought I'd let you know this. I've combined some later chapters together. It's been really hard to find 'X' words and 'Y' words, so that'll be chapter 'X & Y'. I've also combined 'Z' with the epilogue. This means we're more than halfway there! More from me at the end...

Alphabet Soup

M

Mistletoe

They knew winter had arrived when a giant quilt of snow covered the small outside recreation area. Ginny put her fingers to the frosty pane of a window and watched as her breath made little warm spots, then froze again. Warm, cold, warm, cold, warm, cold…

She jerked back her fingertips and swiftly turned when she heard footsteps behind her. It was a Death Eater- with a box of Christmas decorations. Her eyes widened and she couldn't help the laugh that bubbled from her throat. Feeling brave, Ginny snickered, "Well, if it isn't Father Christmas, come to give us more curses and hexes than we'd know what to do with."

"That would be Mother Christmas, I'm afraid, and unless this tinsel is charmed to strangle people, I think you're safe."

Ginny breathed heavily in relief. "Oh, it's you, Mona."

"Yes," Mona replied. "You should be more careful. If it hadn't been me, you may have actually gotten that hex."

"I can't help it," Ginny replied heavily. "I mean, cooped up in here all the time… it's hard to keep sane. I'd strangle some of your masked buddies if I had the chance. I'm not sure I much care if I'll get cursed, as long as I say something."

"I advise against that. Scream into your pillow if you have to, but some of the Death Eaters, well, they don't want to be here any more than you do. They won't hesitate to hurt people who irritate them just slightly. In fact, just yesterday-" she stopped abruptly. "Just be careful what you say, Ginny."

Ginny looked where she assumed Mona's eyes would be. Suspiciously she asked, "Why do you care enough to warn me? Do you say the same things to everyone?"

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," Mona snapped. Ginny took a step back. "I don't have to talk to you at all. I could be as cruel as Malfoy or that idiot de Danann, but I'm not. That should be good enough."

"I- I'm sorry," Ginny stammered. "I just meant- I mean, it's- you're the only Death Eater who is even polite and it's confusing and god damn it, I just want to go home!" She slid to the floor and rested her chin on her knees. "It isn't fair."

"Only time can decide if the end justifies the means," Mona replied sagely. "Help me with these decorations?"

"Sure," Ginny sighed, standing. "I don't know how much help I'll be. I'm too short to reach some of the stuff you already put up."

"You can do wandless magic, right?"

"Yeah…" Ginny responded, curious.

"Well, Conjure yourself a stool or something."

"I don't know if I can do something that complicated. I mean, Summoning and Disarming are easy enough, but Conjuring…" She paused. It couldn't hurt to do it, to keep her mind trained despite her imprisonment. She closed her eyes and focused on the image of a wooden stool in her mind. "Sella Scalarum*!" she shouted. To her amazement, a little step ladder sat before her. "Whoa," she breathed.

"Now," Mona said. Ginny thought she could hear a smile in the voice. "Let's get this wreath on the wall. A little higher… more to the left… perfect!"

Ginny didn't realize how long she'd been helping Mona until her stomach began to loudly rumble. She grinned sheepishly. "How close is it to dinner?" she asked. How close is it to Christmas?

"Half hour or so, I think. Can't be sure."

Ginny gave a pregnant pause. "Can I ask you a question?" Can I ask you a million questions? She didn't wait for a response. "Why are we decorating what basically amounts to an internment camp?" Why can't I be decorating The Burrow with what's left of my family?

"The Dark Lord suggested it."

"Tom?" Ginny asked incredulously, eyebrows raised.

"He's been in a good mood lately. We're gaining ground much faster than anticipated."

"But Tom hates Christmas."

"Does he?" Mona asked, curiosity piqued.

"Never mind," Ginny quickly said. She recalled what he had told her via the diary when she was eleven. He had never gotten any gifts for Christmas. The orphanage didn't really celebrate much; they got a special pudding, but that was about it. He was so happy when he found out that he could stay at Hogwarts for the holidays. He still didn't get any gifts, but at least the food was good and plentiful. Then a thought struck Ginny: what if Tom had been lying? She wouldn't put it past him, and he had good reason to make up such a story. Her sympathy for his plight would have made their connection stronger, made it easier for him to take her mind, body, and soul. He had gotten angry at Christmas time, if Ginny recalled correctly. He was more bitter and wrote less. She remembered what he had written to her as she scribbled away about her presents. "Good for you, Gin. Some of us weren't so lucky." It was just another mystery about her former confidante.

Mysteries currently surrounded him, Ginny mused. He was acting bi-polar. One moment he was kissing her on the head and the next he was ripping the hair out of her scalp. His eyes were full of mirth, then immediately they would darken. Something wasn't right. Or has he always been like this and I've only just noticed?

"You can tell me," Mona pushed. Her voice was soft. Ginny steeled herself. This woman had been kind to her, but she couldn't betray Tom. She would be punished severely if she spoke about his past. Then it struck Ginny- even if she could gossip about Tom, she wouldn't. It just wouldn't be right. As much as she disliked him, was confused by him, she would never tell his secrets. As far as she knew, the only secret of hers that he had ever blabbed was her crush on Harry, and that wasn't exactly a clandestine issue. No, she wouldn't say anything about Tom, not to Mona, not to Luna, not even to dear Neville.

"No, I can't," Ginny said firmly. "And I won't. Please don't ask me to."

"Okay," Mona conceded from behind her mask. "I won't push. Here now, help me hang this mistletoe."

"Mistletoe?" Ginny snorted. She eyes the plant warily. "What, are we expected to kiss our favorite Death Eaters if we have the misfortune of crossing paths?" She imagined Malfoy coming at her, lips puckered and making smooching sounds. She shivered. For him to act as haughtily as he did, he must be compensating for something, Ginny thought. It was probably poor physical abilities, above and below the belt. She snickered. Or- she gagged at the idea- what if that disgusting de Dannan character removed his mask and preyed on some poor girl? His frizzy brown hair wouldn't be his only unattractive feature. He probably had a lazy eye and long nasal hair. Plus his breath is probably rancid.

"Maybe some people will have to worry, but probably not you."

"How do you mean?" Ginny inquired. Without even knowing the means of her safety, she relaxed slightly.

"You must have noticed that the Dark Lord is oddly possessive of you," Mona explained. "I wonder why that is."

Ginny smirked. "Sorry, Mona, but I'm not taking the bait."

"No harm in a little fishing."

"Unless… He finds out about it."

"Will he find out?" Mona asked archly. Her hands stilled. Ginny didn't know if this was because of nerves or if she has finished putting a Sticking Charm on the mistletoe.

"I don't think so." Ginny bit her lip. "I won't volunteer anything, but if he asks- well, that's a different matter entirely. I can't lie to him. He always knows, no matter how good you are at Occlumency. Except for Snape, but that was a huge exception, I think."

"Yes, Severus had a lot of people fooled," Mona sighed wistfully. "We always thought he couldn't produce a Patronus because he didn't have any happy memories, but it was because of a woman he loved as a child. Sentimental drivel."

"I think it's sweet," Ginny responded, coming down from her step ladder. "To still love your childhood sweetheart after so many years is very romantic. Huh. I never thought that I'd ever have put Snape and romance in the same sentence."

Mona snorted. "No kidding."

A shrill shriek snapped them out of their somewhat strained conversation.

"Ginny! Watch out for nargles!" Luna was running as fast as her legs could carry her. She grasped Ginny's arm and pulled her so roughly that Ginny wouldn't have been surprised if a bruise appeared. "Oh, thank goodness. We wouldn't want your hair covered in them just before the holidays." Luna looked at Mona discerningly, seemingly oblivious of her mask and title. "Your decorations are lovely. You really should keep creatures like nargles out of the halls; they can be hazardous."

"I'll keep that in mind for next year," Mona replied wryly.

"Next year?" Ginny asked nervously. "Do you really think we'll be here that long? I've been here since the thirty-first of August, four months, and I'm going mad. I can't take another year of this place!"

"Ginny, why don't you and Miss Lovegood go to dinner?" Mona tersely suggested. "I'm almost done here."

Ginny just nodded. Luna linked their arms and began to walk towards the plain dining room. "She seems nice," Luna observed airily.

"Sometimes," Ginny replied quietly.

Christmas Eve came as a surprise. The only way the captives knew it was the twenty-forth was because the dinner food was more lavish and de Dannan muttered a harsh 'happy Christmas' to each person as they entered and exited. The chatter in the room was more loud than usual. Still, over the din Ginny heard de Dannan's harsh voice.

"Longbottom, for the last time, shut up. I'll report you- or maybe I won't. Maybe I'll just take care of you on my own…"

"No, you shut up! We already know that there's no hope, that people have died. You don't have to rub our noses in it, or try to scare us by saying our relatives are dead, or how you tortured our friends into madness-"

"Neville," Ginny said calmly, placing a hand on his arm, "leave it. He's just trying to get to you, to all of us. We can't believe anything he says. It's no use arguing with this idiot."

He took a deep shuddering breath and balled his fists. "You're right, I know you are, but I can't stand this! Why don't they just kill us and get it over with? That's what's going to happen in the end!"

The sound of a slap resonated off the walls. "Don't you dare say such things, Neville Longbottom! You of all people- you're a hero! You used Gryffindor's sword and killed that disgusting snake! You destroyed a Horcrux. There's always hope, and don't you dare contradict me."

Neville brought his hand to the red palm-shaped spot on his cheek. "Ginny…"

"I'm sorry, Neville," Ginny said, looking at her shoes. "I shouldn't have hit you."

"No- it's okay. You done eating?" Ginny nodded. "Then how about you, me, and Luna walk down the hall together."

The three walked, Neville in the middle, until they reached the stretch of hallway Ginny and Mona had decorated a few days earlier.

"Mistletoe," Neville whispered.

"Nargles," Luna warned.

"Kisses!" Ginny exclaimed. She kissed Neville twice on the cheek she had hit. He flushed.

"Oh, what the hell," he said, kissing Luna and then Ginny on their foreheads. Luna responded with a kiss of her own. The girls air-kissed one another, something that reminded Ginny of Fleur and set her to laughing. "Goodnight, ladies," Neville said, still blushing, and they all settled into their beds, hoping and wishing that their families were safe.

Ginny woke with a start. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she noticed something odd, something extra, sitting on her side table. A box. She pulled her long red hair back as she approached the gift curiously. Is this a trick? She decided to splash cold water on her face before going any closer, just in case she was hallucinating.

Her damp hand hovered over the box for a moment. There wasn't a card. It was wrapped plainly. What the hell is going on here? Breathing in, she slowly sliced the wrapping paper with a fingernail. Her eyes opened inquisitively as she saw something so very ordinary that it wasn't ordinary at all.

The box contained an eagle feather quill and a bottle of black ink.

What? No parchment? Who… What the…

She then saw a scrap of paper beneath the ink. Bring it into the hall. She knew that handwriting. She loathed that handwriting. She didn't want to go near the one to whom the handwriting belonged. She had to. She had no choice. Even if there was a choice, she would still need to say thank you. At that moment, she hated that she had been brought up with manners.

Pulling on her dressing gown, Ginny stepped out of her room. No one else was awake yet. "Tom?" she called softly.

"Down here, little one," came the reply. She walked towards the voice and rounded the corner. "Happy Christmas."

"And to you," Ginny replied, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her brow furrowed. "Tom, what-"

"For your loyalty," he explained.

"Huh?" Apparently he had not explained very clearly.

"You have had ample opportunity to reveal secrets about me, but you didn't. I have rewarded you for your loyalty."

"I couldn't say anything about you, Tom. You would have had me drawn and quartered."

"That's so disgustingly… Muggle. Well, the fact remains that you didn't say anything, not even to your confidante." He smiled at her as he saw her mouth fall open a bit. "And if I'm correct- and I usually am- you said that even if you could speak of me, you wouldn't."

"So you planted Mona," Ginny accused, lips twitching.

"Ah, little one," Tom sighed, "Legilimency is a wonderful thing." It did not go unnoticed that Tom hadn't answered her question.

Ginny shuffled uncomfortably. "Tom, thanks for the quill and ink, but…"

"What are you going to do without any parchment?" he smirked. "That is your real gift, little Ginny. I happen to have some spare parchment, and I happen to have an owl with a wonderful sense of direction. I also know that you want to contact your family. It's only natural."

"I get to write a letter to my family?" Ginny asked, eyes bright. A shadow quickly fell over her face. "You'll just have someone follow the owl and bring my family here. I can't do that."

Tom chuckled. "Haven't I told you before that I have no interest in your family so long as they don't break my laws?"

"Yes…"

"And you don't believe me," he frowned.

"No, I don't."

"Good girl. I knew you were smarter than that. Now, you distrust me, which is wonderful, but mine is a genuine offer. How can I convince you of this?"

"I don't know that you can," Ginny replied, stone-faced.

He smiled. "You're much more clever than you were when you were eleven."

"I should hope so."

"Ah, how's this?" Tom began. "You can send your letter by- God, I can't believe I'm suggesting this- Muggle post."

"You'd have to know where they're living," Ginny pointed out dryly.

"I already do."

Ginny gulped and blanched visibly. "You know where they are? Or are you trying to frighten me?"

"Truly, I know where they are. They haven't been harmed, I promise."

"Your promises are empty."

"Some of them," he conceded with a lopsided grin. He leaned back against the wall. "But think of it this way- if I already know where they are, what's the harm in your writing them? If I didn't know where they are, there isn't any reason to be frightened for them." He held out a piece of parchment. "Do you want it?"

Ginny nodded. As she reached for the parchment, he pulled it just slightly out of her reach. She glared angrily at him. He laughed, eyes sparkling, and handed her the coveted item.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Little Ginny, I have a question." She looked at him, perplexed. "Are you afraid of nargles?"

"Wh-" but before she could complete the thought, Tom pressed his cold lips against hers. It wasn't a deep kiss, nor was it anything more than surprising to Ginny, but it was a kiss nonetheless.

"Nargles live in mistletoe, right?" Tom laughed heartily as Ginny turned a deep red, turned on her heel, and practically ran back to her room.

 

Yay? Boo hiss? I mean, it is listed as a romance, even if the romance is twisted and doesn't make sense yet [it does eventually, I promise. All this Nice!Tom is sort of foreshadowing].

*This was another spell I invented. It literally translates as "chair of steps". If there's a Latin word for 'ladder', I've forgotten it. Eh.

So! I can't believe how many people want Harry to live! I took everybody's comments into consideration and decided which way Harry's tale will go. I'm not going to give any hints, though *winky face* I did warn you about character death, right? That was a sad attempt at misdirection or something.

'Kay, this is the part where I say REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW a lot.

Next Time on "This Is A Story About Soup": "There's not much more to say. I love you all and hope you are safe. Love, your Ginny."...That's when the earthquake started.


	15. N

So, here it is... a brief transitional chapter.

I didn't get many reviews for the last chapter. I'd appreciate it if you guys would let me know what made it so different from the others so I don't repeat whatever mistake I made. REVIEW this one, pleasey. Darlings, I have succumbed to the evil power of World of Warcraft. ...I'm on Argent Dawn, for anyone who cares to know, playing Snoxy- a gnome who likes to jump off of cliffs. Between trying to learn that confusing as hell game and actual real stuff, I've been distracted. This has been done for a bit, actually... It's WAY shorter than it was originally; much schtuff was moved to the next part. Read on and please remember to review.

Alphabet Soup

N

Note

"Dear Everyone,

I'm writing to let you know that I am, for the most part, okay. I'm not what you'd call 'happy', but I'm being taken care of. I'm really very lucky that I'm even allowed to write to you. This letter was my Christmas present.

I don't know where I am. I live in a big building with a bunch of people my age. Luna and Neville are here. So are the Patil twins. Draco Malfoy is here, too, but I wish he wasn't. I recognize some people from Hogwarts but can't remember all of their names. A lot of other countries and schools are represented here. There are a lot of kids who can't speak English.

When the weather is nice, we get to go outside sometimes. There's not a whole lot of space, but we get to stretch our legs. Better than nothing, right?

To mum: I'm sorry that the last time I saw you we had a fight, especially about something so stupid. My hair is even longer now, so more of it would be in my food than before.

To Percy: Please be good to Mum. You were gone for so long and we only just got you back. You're the oldest one there now, so help as much as you can.

To His Holey-ness: Don't forget Fred's sacrifice. You were so down. I hope you're not still that way. Keep Fred in your heart and act how you would if he was still with us. We all need that.

To Ron: Smile. Please smile. Don't just keep reading that damn book (never thought I'd have to say that to you!). Do what you need to do, and do it happily if you can.

I've been told by a somewhat reliable source that Charlie, Bill, and Fleur are okay. I hope that's true. I like to think it's true. I do think it's true. I've also been told that you're safe as long as you don't break His laws. That means you can peel potatoes the normal way, Mum!

I have a million questions for you but I obviously can't ask them because I won't get any return post. I'm glad I can write you at all. I hope this letter gives you some peace of mind. There's not much more to say. I love you all and hope you're okay.

Love,

Your Ginny"

"Not bad," Tom mused as he read Ginny's letter to her family. "Vague enough: no mention of the ocean, no descriptive details, no names except ones they already know. Ah, and I'm briefly mentioned, and with a capital letter. I'm touched, little Ginny. I'm chuffed to hear that you find me to be 'somewhat reliable'."

"I don't trust you as far as I could throw you," Ginny snapped, "but for some reason, only god knows why, I believe some of the things you say."

"It's good that you don't put your trust in me. Only a fool would."

"So your Death Eaters are fools?" she challenged.

"Many of them, yes. They're afraid of my power, so they obey. I'm God to them; soon I'll be God to the whole world."

"You're a megalomaniac," Ginny muttered.

"What was that?" Tom asked in a mocking voice. "You don't want your letter sent?" His blue eyes pierced her, made her shudder. She was suddenly reminded of the reason she hated the color.

"I'm sorry, Tom," she quickly said, wringing her hands in nervousness. Yeah, sorry I said it out loud.

"You don't mean it," he smirked, gently folding the parchment with his sinewy fingers. "I don't care. I prefer it when you speak your mind."

"Why?" Ginny asked, eyes narrowed in both anger and confusion. "You get violent and unhappy sometimes if you don't like what you hear."

"You aren't as afraid of me as most. That doesn't always work in your favor, as you know, but it's really quite refreshing. I get rather bored with people agreeing with me just so they can get in my good graces. Invincible as I am, a spat or spar would be nice every now and then. With you, little Ginny, I can mince words. Speaking of which, did you ever draw any conclusions from our little chat about politics?"

She looked at the floor and whispered, "Yes."

"Ah," Tom replied. "What conclusions did you draw?"

"I'd rather not say," she flushed. "Just use Legilimency."

"Come now," Tom coaxed. "I want to hear the words from that pretty little mouth of yours." Ginny was reminded of his stony lips pressed on hers, unfeeling, unmoving, but still something that made her heart skip a beat or two. It was just a shock. I simply wasn't expecting it. That's why my heart is beating faster when I remember it.

"I… got upset," she confessed quietly. "You made a little sense."

"That's good to hear. You'll see things completely clearly eventually," he stated firmly. "Still, fine parting words."

"Parting words?"

"Yes, little one. I'll be leaving for another complex tomorrow."

"There are more of these… places?" Ginny gasped. How many? How many others are in captivity?

"Of course," Tom said, sounding a bit puzzled. "You didn't think that I could let a world full of adolescents live in this one place, did you?"

"I never really thought about it."

"Think more while I'm away," he commanded. As he turned and began to walk away from her, Ginny called out to him. She felt very brave at that moment. Courage coursed through her body. It was unnerving; she didn't know from whence it came. I guess that's why I'm a Gryffindor.

"Why did you kiss me?"

Tom faltered in his steps but continued walking at an even pace. He turned to look over his left shoulder. "Did I kiss you?" He faced forward again.

"You know you did."

"Must not have been very good, then, if I can't remember it."

When he was out of her sight, she turned and ran back to her room, breathing heavily. Either he really didn't remember or he was being intentionally cruel. It has to be the latter. Tom remembers everything. Why would he say that? A lump formed in her throat and she closed her eyes as she lay on her bed. A more pressing question burned in her mind:

Why do I care?

Neville

"I swear to you, Ginny, I'd strangle that man if I could," Neville seethed.

"What did he do now?" Ginny asked. She was getting accustomed to Neville's complaints about the Death Eater called de Danann, but still felt like she needed to be a compassionate ear.

"He talked about my parents," he spat. "Laughed." His fists clenched and his knuckles turned white. "I don't think I've ever wanted anyone to die more than that guy, not even You-Know-Who."

"You-Know-Who trained the people who tortured your parents into madness," Luna responded airily. She really needs to learn to censor herself.

"You think I don't know that?" Neville snapped. "If it was your dad sitting in the hospital-"

"Stop!" Ginny shouted. "Let's just agree that T- You-Know-Who has complete bastards for employees, okay? I can't stand it if we fight. I don't know about you guys, but you're all I have to keep me sane in this place. If we don't have each other, we have nothing. Please." She looked beseechingly from Luna to Neville and back again. They didn't argue, but neither did they make amends. Neville crossed his arms over his chest and Luna was uncharacteristically silent. She turned her head from Neville and stuck her nose in the air.

We have to get out of here. This place is changing people. Hurry, Harry.

Ginny hung her head and tugged at the split ends of her long ginger hair. She sighed heavily as she took her place at the dinner table. The Korean girl next to her had learned a few words of English. "Hi," she said squeakily. "I am named Ae-Cha."

"I'm Ginny," she replied. "Good to meet you."

"What are you named?"

"Ginny," she repeated firmly. The rest of the meal gave her a horrible headache. Karen from Germany was on one side of her laughing boisterously and Ae-Cha was on her right trying to make conversation with the twenty or so words she knew in Ginny's native tongue, the most common of which seemed to be 'yes' and 'squirrel'. She tried to tune out all noise but only succeeded in getting one large buzzing sound from the milieu. She didn't wait after dinner to speak with Luna and Neville; they weren't pleasant company at the moment.

She was pleased with this decision when she saw that Luna was brooding and poking the sprouts on her plate with a spoon and heard Neville's voice begin to rise.

Once in her room, Ginny stripped out of her robes and into her pajamas. She splashed cold water on her face before settling beneath her blankets. Absently she turned her Christmas quill in her hands, stroked her cheek with it, and reminisced. Her thoughts took her back to a Transfiguration lesson she'd shared with Luna. Ginny was sucking on a Sugar Quill and offered one to Luna. Luna already had a quill in her mouth, and it wasn't made of sugar. Professor McGonagall had spotted them and taken five points from both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.

She smiled in the darkness.

That was when the earthquake started.

 

And a few people asked if Neville was going to die! OOC, yes... dead? no.

These are the people whose reviews I was not able to personally respond. Seven million thanks go to:

allen terrill, Team Guy of Gisbonre, insanity75, allychick1, siriuslvr24, Harlequin-Raven, Cheeky-eyes, A. Lynn the Poet, MoreEverything, ncy555, never you mind, elladora lestrange, anon, IluvAusten, Selkie, Emily, LovingBlackParadise, randomspazmicchick, nona, and liltrick89.

Also, a special thanks to Sarapha for turning me on to her RP forum, Avada Kedavra. I'm in hardcore love with it.


	16. O

Hello again, dears.

This particular hunk of story was eleven pages long, so I would really appreciate a REVIEW.

The rating is well-deserved here: there's a large helping of cursing in TWO languages. I'm so proud of myself.

Alphabet Soup

O

Observations

The earthquake on Halloween had been frightening; this one had Ginny standing in the doorway connecting her bedroom to the toilet for protection. She knew that she should be searching for safe, steady ground, but she also knew that she was on an island. None of the area would be safe. Doorways, she had been told, were typically the safest place to be if indoors. As her bones reverberated within her muscles, she recalled that October's earthquake had been a result of Tom's anger.

Was this?

Did it matter?

She heard shrieks and screams coming from all around her, some people shouting prayers, some calling for Merlin's grand protection, and others still yelled for their parents. Ginny bit her lip to keep strident squawks from escaping her throat. The cupric taste of blood soon filled her mouth and she gave a dry sob of desperation. Her fingertips were numb against the vibrating doorframe. Then it stopped.

She stayed beneath the plain cornice, anticipating the dangerous aftershocks. After what Ginny approximated to be fifteen minutes, she took a few steps into the toilet and spat the blood from her mouth. Her face was gaunt in the mirror and she could see herself trembling slightly. Happy Christmas, she thought wryly. Brushing her teeth seemed a novel idea, and a gulp of water followed.

An hour, maybe two, passed without incident. Ginny was extremely tired; her body was sore from stress and her mind was exhausted. It hurt to move her eyes around the dark room, but it hurt more to close them. Even blinking was excruciating. Tears of pain prickled the corners of her eyes. She was certain that when she looked in the mirror next, the whites of her eyes would be apple-red. A few times Ginny thought the earth shook again, only to realize that it was her fingers tingling from her vice grip of the wall during the quake. At long last the weight of her eyelashes was too much for her to bear and her lids fluttered closed. The respite was brief.

Who the hell is knocking on my door at this time of night?

"Miss Weasley," an unfamiliar male voice said through the door, "the Dark Lord requires your presence immediately."

"I- I'll be right there," Ginny stammered loudly, curiously. "Just let me get my robes…"

"Robes or pajamas, the Dark Lord won't care. Now, Weasley, or both our arses are on the line."

"Okay, okay," she muttered as she put on her dressing gown and a pair of fuzzy pink slippers. She opened her bedroom door and unsurprisingly found the masked face of a Death Eater waiting for her. "What's so important that you had to drag me out in the middle of the night?" she grumbled. "This had better be good."

"On the contrary, Weasley," the man replied grimly. He almost sounded melancholy. "It's bad- very, very bad. Follow me."

Follow she did. She walked through a maze of endless bleak corridors and tried to keep track of their route. Right, left, right, left, left again- or was it right? Or did we go straight at that intersection? Finally they reached a set of ornate doors.

They were made of a polished black stone Ginny couldn't identify and had gilded handles crafted to look like snakes ready to strike. The cornice reached the ceiling, its gold decadence starkly contrasting the dreary ambiance of the rest of the corridors. She didn't know what to do; should she knock? Would the sound of a knock caused by her small fist even carry through the stone? Surely she wasn't expected to simply walk in; Tom would be furious. She stole a glance at her masked escort.

He grasped the serpentine handles of the ingress. He heaved with all his might and groans of pain issued from behind that dreadful mask. The door didn't budge. The Death Eater sighed in frustration and swore beneath his breath.

The doors opened, seemingly of their own volition. Ginny heard Tom's voice ring out, echoing in the ornate chamber ahead. "Are you a Muggle or a wizard? You didn't think to use a spell? Incompetent idiot."

"I've brought Weasley," the Death Eater said tonelessly.

"I can see that," Tom replied. His voice sounded almost empty, hollow. "Leave her with me and go practice elementary-level spells."

The man bowed, turned, and rushed from the decadent room. The exit- the only exit- shut with a great reverberation. Ginny took time to look around her. Tapestries adorned the walls. Some were pastoral, others depicted historic scenes from the Wizarding past. One showed Hogwarts castle burning. Her eyes lingered on this for a while. That hadn't even happened a year ago.

This chamber was incredibly long and rectangular. The floor was made of a shiny dark marble that looked like the surface of the bluest ocean. She almost thought that she would slip if she tried to walk. At the far end of the room, some fifty yards away, stood a throne made of the same marble as the floor. Its height was astounding and unnecessary. Tom's head came to rest at about the middle of the throne. Before him lay a bundle of some sort, covered in a pale white cloth. Ginny bit her lip.

"Don't be shy, Ginny," Tom said quietly. The echo of his words made it seem like he was speaking directly into her ear. "Come stand before me."

Her steps were slow and tentative. Her eyes met his, but she never looked away. Something was inside those eyes, behind them, and she didn't like the feeling that his gaze gave her. Those blue eyes hid something dangerous, of that she was certain. Have I done something wrong again? Tom's expression was grim. He didn't look unhappy, just solemn. Ginny had seen that look on her father's face years ago, right before he told her that Charlie had been badly burned by a particularly ornery dragon and had to stay in hospital for three weeks. Finally Ginny reached her destination. She did not bow.

"Tom," she whispered, "what's this all about?"

"There's a problem," Tom explained. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne and let his eyes linger to the bundle on the floor. "I've decided to let you determine the solution."

Options

"Me?" Ginny squeaked. What was he playing at? "What on earth could you want my opinion of?"

"A punishment is in store," Tom replied. There were little lines forming between his eyebrows as he frowned.

"What did I do this time?" Ginny asked with exasperation. She looked at her fluffy slipper-clad feet and blushed.

"You, darling Ginny, did nothing wrong," Tom smirked. "Someone has slighted you in one of the worst possible ways. I'd like to hear any ideas you may have on how to… resolve the matter." He looked to his left and shouted, "Bring him in!"

Two people in masks were dragging the immobilized body of a man with a face Ginny had never seen. The face was ugly; it was ill-proportioned. The eyes were squinty, the nose was long and pointed, and a scar dragged across the entire left side of his countenance. The hairline was receding, but the hair itself identified the individual. The frizzy brown hair that Ginny had come to associate with a nasty French sneer and general cruelty was angled oddly from the man's head.

"De Danann," Ginny whispered. She turned her wide eyes to Tom expectantly.

"Leave him," Tom commanded in a voice not entirely his own. The two masked figures unceremoniously dropped de Danann to the floor in front of their Lord and next to the strange bundle. With a wave of his hand, Tom signaled the exit of the others. He stood. "Treason, de Danann, is a very dangerous thing, especially when it is carried out against Lord Voldemort. Wouldn't you agree? Oh, but you cannot speak! You may say your piece to Miss Weasley shortly. A little chat is in order first, wouldn't you agree, little Ginny?" He didn't move his eyes from the shocked face of the man on the floor.

"You see, you treacherous lump of filth, I believe that Lord Voldemort's orders were quite clear. I cannot say that I am entirely shocked by your disloyalty; you've been a thorn in the side of my organization for some time. You've gone too far this time. I've let slide your little mistakes, your obnoxious quirks, and even a few of the comments you've made about me when you thought you were in safe company. Swine, Lord Voldemort has ears everywhere. He hears everything, knows everything. You knew the risks when you took the Mark. Foolish man, you believed yourself above the laws set forth by the Dark Lord. Not only did you speak out against the state we have begun to solidify, but you acted upon an idiotic impulse that undermines all I have worked for. Such insubordination cannot be tolerated. Lord Voldemort will not be deciding your punishment, as you may have guessed by the presence of little Ginny. She will decide your fate. It's only fair. It cannot be said that the Dark Lord feels nothing for his people."

His wild eyes turned to Ginny, the piercing blue a shocking reminder of the events of her first year at Hogwarts. This was not the Tom Riddle to whom she had written, nor was this the Tom Riddle she'd seen over the past few months. For the first time, Ginny appreciated Tom as Voldemort. A manic laugh escaped his lips as he released the jinx on de Danann, allowing him to speak.

Words did not immediately leave his mouth; de Danann spat at Tom's feet. "Upstart child," he snarled, "you speak as though you know the will of the Dark Lord, as though you are his confidante. You know nothing, boy, nothing. The Dark Lord certainly knows of your impertinence, your constant meddling in my affairs, and he will soundly punish you!"

Tom laughed heartily. The sound was unnerving; the laugh was genuine. He stepped gently onto de Danann's wild mane and nudged his cheek with the toe of his boot. "Oh, Lord Voldemort certainly does punish those who defy him. He is angry, very angry. The world quivered in fear of him. That's why you're here: you're facing sentence for your crimes, and it's being done in the manner the Dark Lord wishes." A rueful glare from the man on the floor made Tom chuckle again. "Little Ginny, would you care to enlighten him?"

Ginny's mouth was agape. This man, this wretched man, didn't know who Tom truly was, yet Ginny did. The world must be spinning backwards. Where to start? "Shall I… Tom, where should I begin?"

"At the beginning, of course, little one. The beginning of our story."

Ginny eyed de Danann with disdain and confusion. Where was this going? What had he done that was so horrible? Why did she get to determine his sentence?

"I found a diary," Ginny murmured. She looked shyly at Tom to make sure she was saying the correct things. Tom just smiled. "But… my diary wrote back to me. Tom… lived in the diary. Sort of. I'm not sure how it worked, but he was like a ghost, only different, living in this old book. When I wrote, he stole parts of me. I would black out. I didn't understand what was happening, didn't know it was Tom, my best friend." She blushed furiously as she said this. "He almost killed me. Tom's memory almost killed me. I was barely alive, but I could hear well enough. Harry came to save me. I heard them talking. Tom admitted his true identity. That's it, I guess."

"Any good at anagrams, de Danann?" Tom asked jovially. "Tom Marvolo Riddle was my birth name. You get thirty seconds to figure it out." De Danann just stared at Tom. "No? My little one, tell him the anagram."

"I- I can't say that name, Tom," Ginny protested. She began to tremble. He glared at her sternly, all mirth, real or fabricated, drained from his face. "Tom…" she looked at de Danann, a useless lump on the floor, and almost felt sorry for him. He was just another victim of Tom's. "He's Lord V-V-Vol…" she stammered, shuddering. Saying that name had gotten her here in the first place; she didn't know what, if anything, would happen if she said it again. "Tom is You-Know-Who!" she cried.

De Danann snorted. "And I'm Agrippa. I'm no fool."

"Tell my dear little Ginny what you've done," Tom said smoothly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the man on the floor snarled.

"Don't you?" Tom asked, cracking a malevolent smile. He nudged de Danann's face with his boot again, a little harder this time. "Watch this, sweet Ginny. I came up with it myself. Essentially it's Veritaserum in the form of a spell. Veritas." Even as the first syllable of the word rolled off Tom's lips, Ginny could see de Danann's eyes dilate and his jaw slacken. Drool flowed from the corner of his mouth and slid in a bead across his face. Tom looked disgusted. "Now, tell little Ginny Lord Voldemort's rule about purebloods."

"Purebloods remain alive and relatively healthy," came a dead voice.

"Did you break that rule, you slithering bit of filth?"

"Yes."

"What's under this tarp?" Tom gestured broadly to the lump of fabric that lay before his decadent throne.

"I don't know."

"Did you disobey a direct order issued by the Dark Lord himself?"

"Yes."

"What is under this tarp?"

"I don't know."

"Did you attack a pureblood?"

"Yes."

"What is under this tarp?"

"I don't know."

Tom turned to Ginny and shook his head. "He's not being very cooperative, is he?"

"If… if it's a truth spell, then he really doesn't know," Ginny said, trembling. She had a very strong suspicion about the contents of that misshapen heap on the floor. She bit her lip harshly and tore some of the skin with her teeth. It was a human. It was a person, a pureblood from the sound of it. But why am I here? Why me? Unless… "Oh, God, don't tell me it's somebody from my family, Tom!" Tears burned her eyes. What if it's George? What if it's Ron?

"It's not, but I fear it may feel just as bad," Tom said to her sadly. Sadly?

"Tom," Ginny pressed, "are you pretending to be upset or are you actually upset?"

Tom closed his eyes and frowned. After a moment he replied, "The latter."

Ginny's eyes widened. She pushed further. "Are you only upset because it- that person is a pureblood?"

His fists clenched. "No," he ground out.

"Why else are you upset?"

"This little Q&A session is over, Ginevra!" Tom flicked his wand at de Danann, who immediately sat up and rubbed his eyes. Apparently Tom had removed all the enchantments on him.

"Imperio!" Tom shouted. "Pull aside the tarp."

De Danann did so unblinkingly.

He looked uninjured. It was almost as if he was in a deep sleep, but with his eyes wide open. The gray hue often associated with death didn't tint his skin at all.

For an eternity Ginny just looked at Neville, disbelief etched onto every centimeter of her face. Her knees shook and she could almost feel the blood rushing out of her face and running cold through the rest of her body. Her mouth opened once, twice, and finally her voice managed to escape.

"You son of a bitch! You goddamn son of a bitch!" She ran forward and launched herself at de Danann. She hit him as hard as she could, kicked his shins, and screamed. "What the fuck did he ever do to you?! He's a hero, a fucking hero, and you murdered him, you son of a bitch!"

"Tell her why you did it," Tom commanded over Ginny's lamentations.

"He wouldn't stop talking."

Ginny froze. "He wouldn't stop talking. You wouldn't shut your mouth, you French bastard! You talk; voulez vous mourir, maudite viche? Fous le camp, fous le camp! Va te faire foutre, trouduc!" She was extremely grateful to Fleur, whose presence required that she learn to speak French. She was even more grateful to Gabrielle, whom had taught her about every dirty word imaginable. She was positively thrilled to be able to berate this murderer in his native tongue. Her grief quieted to harsh dry sobs and mutterings. "Conneries… mon dieu, il est… il est…"

"The question now is this," Tom interjected steadily, "What do you want his fate to be? Shall I simply reprimand him? A bit of torture? Death?"

Fire in her eyes, lip twitching, Ginny spun and held Tom tightly in an angry embrace. "Oh, Tom! How can he be… He's gone, Tom, gone! Now his Gran is all alone. He's dead! Neville Longbottom is dead."

Tom cradled her to his chest and stroked her hair soothingly. "I know, little one." Her tears were staining her face and the front of his robes, but neither of them noticed. "What do you want me to do?" he whispered. Her heart rate increased exponentially. Tom felt it and knew what she would say. He held her gently at arms' length and watched memory after memory pass through her eyes. "Tell me what you want me to do."

Tom was so understanding. He was so gentle and caring. He's my stability. He was so sane. He was so generous. He's my tragic hero. My tragic hero, an orphan who had to make his way through life alone and didn't know any better when he did bad things. He understands now. He's giving me what I need. He's giving me a measure of closure.

"I want him to go away."

"Is that what you really want?"

"Yes." She didn't hesitate when she said it.

Tom Riddle smiled a true smile. "On your head be it," he told her. She nodded and clung to him. The world would certainly end if he wasn't there. "I'm alive in you," he told her cryptically.

She felt oddly reassured when she fell into a deep sleep.

 

*Cue dramatic music*

I originally had Gin being even more crazy- sadistic, really. I'm not really into Dark!Ginny, so don't worry about that...

Sorry, Neville fans. You *had* to see it coming. I left a big trail of foreshadowing breadcrumbs. In the original outline, he died a chapter earlier. It's an entirely necessary event. I wouldn't needlessly kill cute li'l Neville.

The fun translations! "Veritas" is easy enough: it's just Latin for "truth". Our French tirade translates as: "Do you want to die, you bastard? Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck off, asshole! This is bullshit... oh my god, he's... he's..."

Now, I have decided Harry's fate. There are three different endings to the story, and I'd like to know which you'd all like. We've got happy, sad, or melancholy. The person who can tell me where I got the line "I'm alive in you" will get 20% of the vote on the ending. I'm going to put a poll on my profile as well; the outcome of that will determine 30% of the end vote. Is it a deal?

Hit me up with a REVIEW to let me know what you think.

Press the button!

V


	17. P & Q

So, my lovelies, I'm finally back. I looked at the last time I updated and said to myself, "Holy shit, Maq! You've had this thing typed out for a long time- what's the deal?" Because I've been gone so long, I feel I owe you guys an explanation. Those of you who know the deal already, skip on down to the story part!

Almost immediately after I posted the last chapter, my Granny died. It was very difficult for me because we were extremely close. I wanted to play a big part in her layout and mass, so I worked my butt of doing that stuff. Death was the subject of the last chapter, so it was hard to edit this bit, even though it only contains remembrances of death. By Summer's end, three more people died. I went back to school. In September, when H1N1 was running rampant in my area, I caught the flu. Initial testing came back negative for H1N1, but I was treated like I had it, just to be on the safe side. Then someone I cared for very deeply died of H1N1. It was... I don't know how to describe the feeling. People (and animals) were dropping like flies around me. In November I was in the hospital (not for the flu. I recovered from that in the normal amount of time). I was there for a week, then got to go home the Monday before Thanksgiving. Well, anyone who has lost someone knows how weird holidays are the first time you're missing someone important. Add that to a diagnosis of breast cancer for one of my aunts and you've got December's delay. In January I went back to school *again*.

So here we are, 9 Feb. 2010 (or 10 Feb, depends where you live). Today would have been my Granny's 80th birthday. Yeah, I'm depressed and upset, but writing is a good outlet for stress. I made it through the editing. Things should go back to how they were before Granny died (every week).

I'd like to offer my most sincere thanks for everyone who reviewed while I was gone. I'm still getting reviews and Story Alerts, so that was another motivator. THANK YOU SO MUCH.

Alphabet Soup

P & Q

Pathos

What have I done?

Did it really happen?

Who made me say that?

Does this make me a murderer?

Ginny tossed and turned in her bed for weeks after the death of Neville, these questions gnawing at her from her toes to her hair. Sometimes she would wake up and vomit; her body was trying to rid itself of the crime her mouth had committed. Sometimes she would swoon and have to grasp a wall. Her ears betrayed her; she would hear Neville screaming at that horrible man, hear the confession of murder, hear Tom giving her the go-ahead to pick the punishment. Her fingers betrayed her; she remembered clinging to Tom, the center of her world, and felt content with the recollection of how her fingertips felt as they clenched his robes in desperation. Sometimes she cried. Most of the time she couldn't. She hadn't gotten to say goodbye, or that she thought he was brave, or that he was a hero. Her eyes burned from tears that wanted to escape but were trapped by her psyche. Once she stole a fork from the dinner table. When she had gotten back to her room, she had stuck out her tongue and began to stab it furiously with the cutlery. This would make her cry. This would punish the tongue that had made her a murderer. This was penance. In the end, all that she accomplished was making herself bleed and causing her tongue to swell so much that she could only have liquids for almost a week. If the world wouldn't punish her, she would punish herself.

It was cathartic. Merely a year ago she had been studying, anxious to get to the Easter holidays even though the Christmas holidays were barely over. A year ago she'd been anticipating her final year at Hogwarts, flirting with boys, tickling the tentacles of the giant squid, and skipping along the High Street in Hogsmeade. Then he came, white-faced and wicked. He had made Harry use the worst curse there ever was. He had kept her from school. The descent into Hell had come only twenty days after she came of age. She hadn't gotten many presents; her father was dead, Fred was dead, and there was so little money. Still, one didn't come of age every day. Great Aunt Muriel had sent the promise of a Prewett heirloom. She wouldn't divulge the exact nature of the item, only said that she'd give it to her little niece when they next met. Auntie Muriel could be dead.

Yes, Ginny Weasley was in Hell. She wasn't surrounded by demons and her body wasn't being licked by lashing flames, but this was the devil's domain. There were people everywhere, but they were either completely empty or had swollen stomachs. In a few months, those girls would be empty too. That was the most cruel form of punishment, Ginny thought. Yes, the rape must be terrible and the psychological repercussions of that hideous action would sting, but to have one's child taken immediately after birth was monstrous. Her own mother had grieved so much for Fred and she'd gotten more than two decades with him. Ginny remembered being very small.

"Why you crying, Mum?" a tiny Ginny asked. She didn't like it when her Mummy cried.

"Nothing's wrong, Ginny, dear," Molly sniffed. "Go on and play with Ron and the others." But Ginny didn't go play. She listened as Mummy wept and as Daddy held her close. "Why, Arthur? I never knew him, but I miss him so much."

"I miss him too, Mollywobbles. There's no sense in crying over what might have been. We already have seven-"

Ginny watched her Mum slap her Dad. She held in a gasp. "You don't understand. You could never understand. Yes, we have seven, and I couldn't love them more, but eight would have been wonderful. And now… now the Healers say that there can't be an eighth. You'll never understand."

Ginny, being so young, hadn't understood the conversation then. Her mother was right. None but the poor young women having their children stolen could truly experience such agony. She counted herself lucky that she had been spared these many months. How much longer would she be so fortunate? She simply sighed and counted her blessings, few though they were.

Tom returned in February. For a week leading up to his arrival, the complex was buzzing with Death Eater preparations; on many occasions, these preparations involved using the Cruciatus curse on any prisoners who got underfoot. The screams echoed down the corridors, around corners, and finally into the ears of the other inmates; it was an effective incentive to keep them reserved and out of the way.

On the day of Tom's arrival, the complex was unusually quiet. Every little noise made the patrolling Death Eaters bow so low that they nearly scraped their noses on the ground; such was their fear of the Dark Lord's wrath. Once the noise was revealed to be a stray captive, they would be Silenced and cursed.

Though she was certain that Tom wouldn't seek her out, she still shook slightly. Those last moments with him, while comforting in the moment, embarrassed her and made her face flush crimson. She'd been utterly dependant upon him and hated herself for it. She hated herself more for hiding away the part of her that retained that raw need for the man who ruled her world. That he had even the smallest measure of control over her was disconcerting.

She stared blankly at the mirror in her toilet. She saw a girl with long red hair that was split at the ends, a girl with brown eyes and thin lips, a girl with a smattering of freckles on her wan face. She didn't see Ginny. Ginny, such as she was, had died months ago. It wasn't when she'd been so suddenly kidnapped; it wasn't even at the Battle of Hogwarts that she had died. It was a year earlier. It was when she and Harry had broken up. No, her heart wasn't broken; some part of her knew that she would never be Ginevra Molly Potter, and she was fine with that. She had first experienced true fear that day. Her brother and two dear friends had set out to destroy Horcruxes, something they never fully explained to her. The numb shock she'd felt when she'd seen Dumbledore's perversely twisted body at the foot of the tower vanished when blind nobility took those friends from her. Suddenly everything was real. Hermione and Ron were God knows where with Harry-

Wait.

"I've found your Harry," Tom had said. That was months ago. How could she have forgotten? She shuddered and knew that she would go to Tom against her better judgment. She needed answers. The courage of necessity hardened her heart and she became resolute.

Ginny wandlessly Transfigured her Christmas quill into scissors and began to cut her hair with unskilled hands.

Questions

Somehow, and for some reason she would never understand, she was granted an audience with the Dark Lord. The strangest thing was that he had come to her. He entered her room unannounced. "I've missed you, little Ginny," he'd said with fondness as he ruffled her hair. His lips quivered into a small frown. "I liked it better long."

"It was too much trouble," was Ginny's dead reply. "It'll grow back."

Tom sighed. "Yes, dear one, it will." He tugged her locks gently and murmured an incantation. It was as if she'd never taken those crude scissors to her tangled mane in the first place.

She slapped his hand away. It hadn't been a strictly cosmetic change. Neville was dead. Luna and so many others were empty shells of their former selves. Their behavior was noticeably different. Ginny needed something of her own, something to see every day to remind her of what she had retained and what she had lost. She still had her quick wit, her short temper, and her undeniably strong magic; she had lost her freedom, her friends, and her family. She'd lost her innocence.

You're a murderer. You may as well have said the curse yourself.

Bravery: it was something else she kept. It was hidden under layers of depression and resignation, but it was still there. Now was the perfect time, if there was such a thing, to confront Tom about Harry.

"I have a question for you, Tom," she stated boldly, "and I'd greatly appreciate an answer."

His deep blue eyes lit up with something akin to glee. "My little Ginny hasn't lost her spunk after all. I was afraid that, given the events of the last few months, your spirit would be broken. This is a pleasant surprise indeed. It makes me… happy, for lack of a better term. So I will do this for you: you may not ask only one question, but instead seven."

Ginny's jaw dropped. She wanted to ask 'why', but she knew that Tom would consider that to be the first of her questions. Oh, how she was thankful! Now, what to ask? Originally she had only wanted to ask about Harry. Now a thousand and one questions buzzed around in her mind. Wait. This is Tom. Nothing is ever clear-cut with him.

"There's a catch," she stated confidently.

"Always," Tom replied with a smirk. "How clever of you to consider my liberal views on what constitutes a valid question. Yes, I shall do you a kindness and explain my rules. As I stated, you may ask seven questions and seven questions only. Questions may not have two parts. You may ask anything you like and I will answer the query to the best of my ability. I will be relatively honest, I promise you. Here is the most important rule: you must ask all seven questions at one time- now- before I provide any answers. Understood?"

Ginny nodded excitedly.

"Ask swiftly, little Ginny. I have an empire to run, after all."

Where is Harry?

How is Harry?

How is my family?

Is there still a resistance movement?

What's to become of us all?

Where do you go when you leave?

When can we get off of this damn island?

Where are we?

Why am I so different?

Why do you treat me so?

What are Horcruxes?

Are all of the Horcruxes gone?

How do you remember me?

How are you alive in this youthful body?

How are you alive?

How are you alive?

She knew her questions, knew what was important to ask and what was superficial.

"My first question is this: Where is Harry?

"My second question is this: How is my entire family, including in-laws and cousins?

"My third question: What has become of Hogwarts?

"My fourth question: What is the most descriptive definition of your Horcruxes that you can provide me?

"The fifth question: Why do you treat me differently than the other prisoners?

"My sixth question: How do you remember me from my first year if I wasn't communicating with you in the present?

"My last question…" she began slowly, "is one I've asked you before. You haven't told me the answer. I want, need, to know this." She inhaled sharply, preparing herself mentally for some sort of outburst on Tom's part. "How did you go from being a hideous snake… thing to looking like a normal human being?"

Tom laughed. It was an unpleasant sound, as high-pitched as his deep voice would allow, and cracking from the strain of his vocal chords. "You are very insightful, little one, and you obviously pay attention and retain knowledge. Your questions please me. I will answer them all, but not necessarily in the order you requested. Be warned," he said sternly, all mirth gone from his perfect features, "you will not like many of the answers. This will open a very large can of worms, and I will not answer any follow-up queries."

Ginny nodded solemnly and swallowed hard. "Thank you, Tom," she whispered.

"Anything, almost anything, for you, dear Ginny." He cleared his throat. "I shall begin with your third question, the one about Hogwarts…"

 

Yep, he's gonna answer.

Kudos to Selkie for being the first to point out that Tom may have manipulated the truth spell ^^

Press the button and leave a review! I plan on getting back in the habit of replying to each one. Thanks again for your patience.


	18. R

Beware, here there be lots of dialogue! Some snarkiness, a dash of romance, and one helluva monologue by Tom await you.

Thanks SO MUCH to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, especially to those of you who offered condolences. Sorry I didn't get around to replying to each review, but I did read each and every one. In fact, it was brought to my attention that the last earthquake was unclear- was it Tom or was it natural? Answer: Tom. Sorry if it wasn't plain. I'll go back and do an edit at some point.

A big part of this is Tom explaining his Horcruxes. Now, we readers know what they are, but Ginny was never told (that we know of). Some of this will be redundant, but read closely. Tom picks his words carefully and he might be hiding something else.

As always, please REVIEW.

Alphabet Soup

R

Responses

"Hogwarts," Tom began, "is still standing." Ginny sighed in relief, then looked at him curiously. Wasn't he going to elaborate?

"Is that-" Wait, no. Don't ask a question. Don't be baited. "That's- this is a sentence, not a question- all you're going to tell me."

"Yes." His lips quirked at the corners, giving him the appearance of someone suppressing a snicker. Tom Riddle didn't snicker; something else must be going on in his mind.

Gritting her teeth, Ginny squealed frustrated. "You're insufferable. You're withholding information deliberately! Are you try- that is, you're trying to get a rise out of me!"

"It's working, isn't it?" Tom asked innocently. "It's simply adorable when you're flustered. Your ears turn pink."

Ginny clenched her fists. "You- you said- honesty-"

"Oh, quite right," Tom replied with a chuckle. "But I didn't say I'd be thorough or detailed. I'm in charge, little one. You can't submit me to your will. Surely you knew that I wouldn't simply spill all of my secrets to you." He stared at her firmly. "I've never used a diary, you know. I'm not so foolish as to leave myself open to being manipulated by putting my thoughts in the ether. Never tell anyone all of your secrets, little Ginny. Didn't I teach you that? Have you forgotten so easily what can happen? Not I. I've never trusted anyone, and I don't think I ever shall."

Tears threatened to trickle from Ginny's eyes, but she remained resolute. "You simply had to bring up the diary- that damn diary!" She pretended to sneeze in order to hide a sniffle. "I can't believe you'd- wait, yes I can. A decent person wouldn't bring back those memories, but you're not a decent person. You're disgusting, despicable, vile, and I hate you, Tom Riddle!"

"There, there, sweet Ginny," he mocked. "No need to cry, and no need to lie. Lying doesn't suit you." He put an arm around her shoulders. She didn't flinch. "You've never hated me. We both know it. Say it. Say you've never hated me."

"You just told me not to lie," Ginny spat ruefully. She began to hiccup.

"Say it," Tom pressed. "Say it and mean it." She said nothing. "I can read your thoughts; I'm the world's greatest Legilimens, remember? Don't make me punish you, little one. You're going through such a hard time. Just say it and we'll move on from this nasty little visit down memory lane."

"Fine," she sulked. "Fine. I never hated you, Tom. Happy?"

"Very." He patted her back soothingly for a silent moment before continuing. "That's two questions down. Which shall I answer next?"

"You only answered one question!" Ginny exclaimed, pulling away from him as if she'd only just noticed how intimately they were sitting.

"After you asked about Hogwarts, you asked if I was happy," Tom explained, "and I told you that I was very happy. That's two questions."

"But that's not fair!"

"According to whom? You agreed to my terms. You knew to choose your words wisely, but in that single second of vulnerability, you forgot. How regrettable."

"It's not even worth it if you're going to be so contrary," she said. "Forget I asked anything. Just forget it."

"But I must keep my word; a gentleman always does."

Ginny snorted. Tom pulled her close again. She only struggled for a second.

"Moving on. Your second question was about your family. They are alive, all but one, and relatively well."

"Tell me who the dead one is," Ginny demanded.

"Tone," Tom warned. "Muriel Prewett died in October. She died in her sleep, of old age- no curses, hexes, poisons- if that's any consolation."

"Auntie Muriel…" she whispered. At least it wasn't another of my brothers. Blearily she looked up into Tom's deep blue eyes. "Thank you for telling me." The whisper elicited a spark in those eyes, one that Ginny couldn't explain.

"I shall skip your question about Potter, as I did answer the one about my happiness," Tom explained. "Questions four, six, and seven are all related, so I'll tackle those together. You want to know what a Horcrux is. I assume you heard Potter toss the word around, as it's not something Hogwarts has ever been keen on teaching. It's very Dark, you see. When you murder someone, Ginny dear, you injure your very soul. You split it. A Horcrux houses the splintered part of the soul. The first murder I committed was that of my father's family. I would have killed them even if I had no knowledge of Horcruxes, but having that knowledge proved very fortuitous. I lived in an orphanage, as you may know, and was given a small diary with my name on it for Christmas when I was fifteen. I turned sixteen one week later, still during the holidays, and took that diary to my father's house. I split my soul, put part of it in the diary, and began the search for other items, important items, to use as well. You see, as long as there is a Horcrux, one cannot truly die.

"That takes us to how I remember you and how I regained my looks. You used the diary, made a connection with what was essentially me, aged sixteen, and then it was destroyed. Now, as I stated, Horcruxes are very Dark, so not much is known about them. Optimists and fools like to think that when the Horcrux is destroyed, so too goes that bit of soul. It is not so. The piece of me that had been trapped inside the diary simply returned to the place at which it was torn asunder- my father's house. I hadn't realized that this had happened for another year or two. When I physically returned to the village, I felt myself there, if that makes sense to you. I felt a latent presence of strong magic and had my servant, now dead, take me to it. It melded into me seamlessly. That is how I know you.

"I realized what had happened, of course. Lucius Malfoy will forever bear the scars I gave him for that incident. What was that fool thinking, giving something of mine to a child? He did not know it was a Horcrux, nor do I believe he even now knows what a Horcrux is. About two years ago, I found out that Dumbledore was searching for my remaining Horcruxes throughout the country. I didn't for a moment believe that he would be able to find them all. To be perfectly honest, I didn't even know what one of them was. Another was destroyed. I didn't know which, but somehow I felt it. Still, I wasn't worried. Dumbledore was dead soon after; what had I to fear? Then I found out, less than a year ago, that Potter had destroyed all of my Horcruxes- save one. Potter himself was a Horcrux. I hadn't the foggiest until I killed him that night in the forest. I'm sure he told you all about that little incident. Knowing that I need only return to the spot at which the Horcrux was created to gain back my youth, I smelled victory. Every drop of blood, from Order members and Death Eaters alike, was a beautiful scent. Oh, it was said 'How sweet smells the corpse of an enemy!' and I learned it at that moment. So your Harry cast the Killing Curse at me, and I did not die. I returned to the places where I created the items and was reunited with pieces of myself I had long ago shelved away. Those pieces retained memories, as you know, but also physical remembrances, such as my appearance. I must say that I'm glad the physical assimilation took place.

"But how was I alive? Potter had found all of my Horcruxes and destroyed them, then I destroyed Potter. By all rights, I should be a rotting mass of flesh right now. I would be, if Potter had actually destroyed all of the Horcruxes. There were not six, as Dumbledore thought. There were not seven, as I thought, but eight. The diary, a locket, a cup, Nagini, a diadem, my grandfather's ring- these I made, and these were destroyed. Potter was an accident, but he matters little now. The seventh one that I made was something completely ordinary, something no one would expect from Tom Marvolo Riddle, the man obsessed with history. The seventh one is something that no man or woman will ever know. I'm perfectly happy with just the one Horcrux. I've found a much better means of gaining immortality."

Silence.

A clock ticked.

Ginny stared.

Tick-

Tom looked thoughtful.

-tock

Her mouth couldn't form words.

Tick-

He raised an eyebrow.

-tock

Her lips were parted with confusion.

Tick-

He took advantage of that.

-tock

It was like the first time he had kissed her, only more significant somehow. Her eyes opened in shock but she didn't struggle. She leaned into him and felt a smile from Tom as he wove his hand into her hair, pulling her closer. Her mind was all over the place. chicken feathers snakes blood prison harry ron chamber hagrid percy hermione diary dumbledore basilisk fred dad soup tom tom tom…

"Tom," she sighed.

Tick-

She kissed him back.

-tock

He pulled away from her, ran his thumb over her lower lip, and whispered into her ear, "I knew you didn't hate me." She jerked away from him, utterly disgusted with herself. "You wouldn't kiss me like that if you didn't like me in some capacity."

"You kissed me first," she trembled, blushing, "and you don't like me at all."

"On the contrary," Tom replied. "I rather like you a lot." Ginny's jaw dropped.

"Liar." She regretted saying it as soon as it slipped from her mouth. Tom's pupils were so large that his beautiful blue eyes looked black as pitch; he frowned. "S-sorry," she stammered. He looked murderous. She flinched as he raised his hand, thinking he meant to strike her. He simply brushed a bit of fringe out of her eyes.

"You will not speak to your Lord that way," he said curtly. Tom turned stiffly and walked away, so tense that the tendons in his hands were visible.

Ginny swore. She hadn't gotten an answer to her last question.

Remembering

Ginny cried that night, sobbed until after the sun peeked at the prison from the distant horizon. Why had she kissed him back? It was obvious that he'd only been trying to confuse her. That's all that boys had ever been: confusing.

Michael Corner, her first real boyfriend, her first kiss, had been confusing. One minute he wanted to snog, the next he brushed her off for his guy friends, then he would be upset that she was upset that he had needed "man-time". Sometimes he treated her like one of the boys, sometimes all he wanted was to touch the parts of her that were uniquely female. She recalled his hands, fumbling and inexperienced; she recalled his breathing, loud and heavy; she recalled his eyes, dark with longing. Sometimes he was in good humor and would blow up for no reason the next minute. Things had gotten really bad when he started an argument in the Great Hall. She wouldn't move fast enough for him; she twisted the words around to make it sound like a row about Quidditch, but she didn't think anyone was fooled.

Dean Thomas, her first sexual partner, probably dead now, was just as confusing. She didn't understand why he had always treated her like a doll when she'd repeatedly asked him not to. Of course, she was only a doll outside of his bed. Alone in the dormitory, curtains drawn, Silencing charms up, Dean was rough with her. She preferred it that way. The few times when their lovemaking was slow, his breathing was as steady as that of a sleeping baby and his eyes were closed. She only knew he was participating when he shuddered, grabbed her thighs, and reached orgasm.

Harry Potter, her first crush, was not so much confusing as he was confused. Did he want her? When the irises of those green eyes were eclipsed, he did. When he looked at her from across the Common Room, he didn't. When he was close enough to smell her perfume, he did. When Dumbledore had died, he didn't.

Confusing.

Most confusing of all… Tom Riddle. She recalled the pain he'd inflicted upon her, but also the kindnesses he had done. She recalled his sweet words in the diary and then the malicious grin given by the memory coming out of the little book. She recalled him kissing her forehead, her lips, letting her have a say in the sentence of Neville's killer. She remembered his hand in her hair, his tongue barely touching hers before she'd whispered his name…

He'd answered her question.

How could she not have understood it? He didn't answer explicitly, but:

"Why do you treat me differently than the other prisoners?"

"I rather like you a lot."

Could Tom, the Dark Lord, her captor, fancy her?

"Oh, Merlin," she moaned into her pillow, "I think I've gone insane!"

 

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	19. S

Been a while, eh? This has been done for some time- I just sort of forgot that I never posted it. Sorry ^^

Response to reviews in general: You were supposed to be confused. I can't remember how many reviews I got saying that someone didn't understand something. If you understood it, I couldn't have written it properly.

Special thanks to Mithost and Mariemaia614 for their help on this chapter. They're my Official People Who Know Psychology and assisted me immensely. In addition to just verbal help, they directed me to case studies pertinent to or similar to the situation presented in this chapter. I only hope I've written this properly.

Alphabet Soup

S

Solitary

Ginny took her Christmas quill, dipped it into what remained of her ink, and made a scratch mark on the wall above the toilet. Sixteen.

She had been locked in her room for sixteen days.

It all started innocently enough. One day, Ginny woke to find breakfast in her room. She shrugged it off, thinking that perhaps renovations were occurring or that Tom was in an especially foul mood. That's how she'd last seen him, after all; melancholy, phlegmatic Tom- Tom, the man whom she had kissed with some ardor not twelve hours earlier. So she took her breakfast alone. No big deal.

Then came lunch time. Food was again on the small desk in her bedroom. She heard the shuffling of footsteps outside her door. Angry voices demanded silence, threatened punishments. Why on earth was she being treated differently? The other captives were trudging along the bleak corridors towards their bland dining room. With a wry sort of smile, Ginny turned the knob on her door and joined the throng.

At least that's what she tried to do.

Perhaps the knob was simply stuck. She decided to try a simple wandless spell, one she had learned in her first year at Hogwarts. "Alohamora," she said confidently. She turned the knob again. It was still stuck. Ginny became antsy. She shouted "Bombarda!" at the door. It was another low-level spell. It was another spell that didn't work. Becoming frantic, she shouted the Reductor Curse. Well, her addled mind attempted to rationalize, she was a bit flustered. With wandless magic, severe focus and concentration were required.

Oh, to hell with it!

Sometimes problems could be solved the Muggle way, or so Bill had always told her. She backed away a few paces and ran full force at the door, ramming it with her shoulder. "Merlin's beard," she cried, "that hurt!" No magic, no muscle… there was one other option: screaming.

She pounded her fists against the heavy door. "Hey, I'm stuck in here! My door won't open!" She heard confused murmurs from the hallway, then a reprimanding bark. "Come on, somebody let me out of here! I know you can hear me; I've got a damn strong pair of lungs!" Sniggering was the next vocal noise she heard. "Stop laughing at me and let me out!" It was all in vain. No one came to the door, no one answered her calls.

I'm being punished, she realized. But for what? Kissing Tom? Well, he'd started it! That was hardly her fault. Maybe it was a means of keeping her quiet, a way of making sure she didn't reveal his secrets. This didn't make sense to Ginny; he'd only explained the method with which he regained his youth, not his plans for immortality. Regardless of the reason, she knew that she wouldn't be let out until Tom cooled down, and there was no telling how long that would be. Maybe a day or two, three tops.

By day three, Ginny didn't know what to think. She'd had no human contact. Her heart raced most of the time from anxiety. She thought of Neville, poor Neville, laying on the floor of that opulent room covered by a filthy tarp. Where was his body now? Had he been given a proper burial? Were… were insects eating him already? And that Death Eater, the one who had murdered Neville, the one she herself sent to his demise, he haunted her thoughts as well. The memory of that frizzy hair sticking out from behind his grotesque mask made her dizzy, filled her with guilt, and made her want to vomit.

Day four: she stopped brushing her hair. What was the point? No one was going to see her. Still warm meals appeared in her room three times a day, but she only picked at them. Her lack of sleep made her nauseated. Her gorge rose with every bite. She didn't like to look in the mirror; not only was her hair disheveled, but the bags under her eyes made her look years older, perhaps even like a ghost. She licked her chapped lips. It didn't do any good.

On day six she began talking to herself. At first she spoke to her reflection. "Ginny, you really must take care of yourself. What will the others say when you finally leave this room?" "I'm never leaving this room and I don't know why. I'll be here forever, all alone." "I'll be your company." She slapped herself sharply. I will not go mad. As she tried to drift into a restless sleep, she heard herself speaking again. "Fred, my robes are too short. My birthday's coming up, do you think Mum will let me get something from the Magical Menagerie? When is the book list arriving?"

By day seven she didn't recognize herself. Her hair was matted to her scalp with oil, a rather nasty bout of acne peppered her face, and her once lustrous brown eyes were glazed over. That didn't matter anymore: Fred had come back to her. She didn't know how, but if Tom could cheat death, certainly someone else could have done it. If only Dad would come back, too… "Ugh, Fred, look at that girl. Doesn't she even care how she looks? It's like she hasn't showered in months. No one will ask her to Hogsmeade if she doesn't take better care of herself." She scratched another mark on the wall, washed her hands, and went to bed.

On day nine, she began wondering how Fred got in and out of her room. He wasn't always there. Come to think of it, why was Tom letting him visit her at all? Maybe it was because they were siblings and he wasn't worried. The real question was how- how was Fred getting in and out when she couldn't? It seemed unlikely that he would have a wand in this prison. How did he open the door? "So I said, 'Michael, stop being such a baby. So we beat you in Quidditch- our team was better. Don't make a fuss about it. Let's just go to Zonko's, grab some sweets from Honeydukes, and forget how childish you're being.' Do you remember that, Fred? We broke up because of it." "Oh, do you remember when Umbridge and her idiot Inquisitorial Squad caught us leaving the Room of Requirement? That nasty Pansy Parkinson wouldn't get her filthy Slytherin hands off of me." "Riding Thestrals to London, how frightening that had been, and how exhilarating! Fred, you would have adored it. In the Ministry, there was this Veil, the one Sirius fell into… The Veil… who was back there? I heard them, and I wasn't the only one. I remember Tonks falling, and I yelled so much. 'Oh Tonks, get up! You're an Auror! You can do it! All I've got is a broken ankle, and you're much stronger than me!' and she got up. You would have loved being there, and you'd have been a great deal of help. Oh, and Dumbledore was brilliant, I'd never seen anything like it before. He was ferocious, like an animal with a wounded cub." She washed her hands and went to bed. He wasn't there when she woke.

Day ten: "He didn't put his name in the Goblet, I knew he didn't. He's brave and wonderful, but he's not that foolish. Besides, if you and George couldn't do it, well, no student could have tricked it. Professor Moody- er, Crouch- was right after all; someone was trying to do him in. I never suspected it would be a professor. God, that dragon was scary! It could have killed Harry! If he'd died, Ron would've felt so bad for how he'd acted. Cedric Diggory died. You-Know-Who murdered him, right in front of Harry. I saw the body. It was… I can't even describe it. He was sleeping with his eyes open, so calm. You saw him, too. I thought I was going to be sick…"

Talking to Fred was wonderful. At this point she'd stopped caring why or how he was with her, she was simply glad. With Neville gone and Luna locked in the outside world, company was appreciated. It was more wonderful still because it was Fred, family, someone dead going on a year now. "Presumed dead," she reminded herself as she washed her hands. They were beginning to chafe.

She reminisced about when she was eleven years old on day fourteen. She was closer now to Fred than she'd ever been before. She could tell him all of her secrets now. He was all she had. "I was ridiculously naïve. 'Dear Tom, I'm so glad you're here. I've never had a talking diary before. You're a friend wherever I go. You're there when Ronald teases me. Dear Tom, Harry Potter looked at me today and smiled! I think he looked at me, anyway. Maybe it was another girl. He'll never notice somebody like me. Dear Tom, I think my Valentine was a bad idea. Everyone laughed at me, and at Harry too. Everybody already picks on him because they think he's Slytherin's heir but he's not. Dear Tom, I'm very confused. Yesterday other people were attacked and I can't remember where I was! What if it's me?' I trusted him so much, Fred. I… I'm ashamed to say that I trust him again. Not blindly, mind; I know what he's capable of now. But he treats me better than the others and he's given you back to me. How did that happen, anyway? How are you not still, well, dead?"

Fred didn't answer. He never did. That was okay with Ginny, though, so long as someone was there to listen. She washed her hands and hummed happily. When she turned around, Fred was gone. "I wish he wouldn't do that," she huffed.

And now it was day sixteen.

She was again scrubbing her hands when the bedroom door creaked open. "Fred?" she called. "Is that you? I'll be there in a moment; my hands just won't stop bleeding." Rubbing the terrycloth towel over her skin only served to irritate it further. She hustled out of the toilet and sighed, "Fred, I wish you would knock. I can never tell- You're not Fred."

"No kidding," came a distantly familiar female voice from behind a mask. "It's been a while since we've spoken, but I never thought you'd mistake me for a man."

Ginny wracked her brain. "Oh! Mona," she said with a small smile. "What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting anyone but Fred. No one else has been here for such a long time."

"Fred?" Mona asked incredulously. "You've had a boy in here? How?"

"Oh, Fred isn't a boy, or not the type you're thinking of. He's my older brother. I don't know how he gets in and out. He's been keeping me company. I was alone, you see, and then he showed up and just listened. He never talks, just listens. It's irritating sometimes."

"Ginny," the Death Eater slowly began, "isn't your brother dead?"

The ginger laughed. "I thought he was, and I cried so much. He was gone, then Dad… but Fred's been here with me for- well, I don't know how long exactly- so he obviously isn't dead. I asked him what happened, but he wouldn't answer. He never answers." Her eyes clouded over and her gaze drifted to a corner. "I wish he'd say something, anything, even an insult."

A heavy quietude lingered thickly in the air before Mona spoke again. "Ginny, I think you're sick," she said delicately.

"I feel fine," Ginny countered. "Never better."

"Okay, maybe confused is a better word. I think you're very confused. Your brother is dead. He died last Spring. Remember?"

"You're trying to trick me," Ginny accused. She tossed her hair and pointed her finger angrily at Mona's face. "You're lying. He comes and talks to me. Well, he comes. He doesn't talk. I said that already. It's probably a side effect of whatever brought him back to life."

"There's no bringing back the dead, Ginny," Mona gently pressed. "You know that. Even the Dark Lord can't do it, so far as I know."

"That's the thing, isn't it?" Ginny tartly replied. "You don't know what he's fully capable of. Maybe Tom brought Fred back to me. He wouldn't share his secrets about such things with just anybody. He isn't an idiot."

"No, he certainly isn't," Mona agreed. She angrily crossed her arms over her chest. "The same can't be said of many of his followers." Ginny looked at her questioningly. "Get in the bath," the Death Eater commanded.

"But what if Fred-"

"Get in on your own or I'll force you in."

"I'll scream," Ginny said defiantly, raising her chin.

"I can always have some of the men come in to make sure you're presentable. The Dark Lord requires your presence shortly."

"What does he want?"

"I'm not sure, but you don't want to make him angry, do you?"

"No," Ginny whispered. She only hoped that Fred wouldn't visit until she was back from chatting with Tom.

The shampoo felt thick and disgusting in Ginny's hair. Her fingers scratched at her scalp in an attempt to lather, but the damage of nearly a fortnight without proper care was not easily undone. She parted her hair into sections and scrubbed that way. Still, every time she thought a part was clean, more gunk mucked up her hands. It seemed hours passed before her entire body was unpolluted. Being seen filthy before Fred was one thing- he was family; being filthy before the Dark Lord was another matter entirely. Wiping the condensation from her mirror, she looked at herself discerningly. Was she ill? She looked it.

Finally she emerged to find Mona dozing quietly. Ginny coughed loudly and announced, "I'm ready to see him now." Sighing, Mona used her wand to dry Ginny more completely and to straighten her robes. As she took Ginny's hand, the younger woman asked, "Did Fred stop by?"

Mona's brow furrowed. "No," she said slowly. "Your brother wasn't here."

"He'll stop by later," Ginny affirmed. She followed Mona out of her room, curious as to what Tom wanted. "Are we going to the room where Neville… where Neville was?"

"Yes. Why?"

"No reason," Ginny lied. Her throat became dry and itchy. "Just, it was a really pretty room. Do my hands look dirty?"

Mona spun on the spot and stared at Ginny. Though she couldn't see her face, Ginny suspected that Mona was looking at her with a queer expression. "Ginny, what's happened to you?" she asked softly.

"Huh? Nothing. Why?"

There was a brief pause. "Just how long were you in there alone?"

Ginny stopped walking and stared into space, thinking. "I'm not really sure. Fred might know. A few days? We'll ask Fred ."

"Ginny, Fred won't-" she stopped herself short.

"Fred won't what?"

"Never mind. I'll have to speak with the Dark Lord before I take you to him. Stay here and don't move. I'll need to know where to find you after I've spoken with Him. If anyone walks by, make sure you talk to them, even if they're Death Eaters. If they tell you to be quiet or threaten you, tell them that you have Level Two Permissions. Got it?"

"Level Two Permissions," Ginny repeated. Mona took fistfuls of her billowing robes and swiftly made her way to the throne room. "That was strange. Oh, hello. I'm supposed to talk to you even though you're a Death Eater," Ginny said to a stray figure. The masked face turned to her.

"I didn't give you permission to speak to me," a familiar voice snarled. "Why are you out of your room? You're on punishment."

"I have Level Two Permissions," she lilted. "I don't know what that means, but I have them, and I was told to speak to anyone I saw, even you. And to answer your question, I'm visiting Tom. Apparently he wants to talk to me."

The figure sighed angrily. "Weaselette, what's the matter with you?"

"Malfoy?" Ginny gasped. He removed his mask and shook the hair from his face. "There's nothing wrong with me, thank you very much. Mona asked me the same thing. Did I sprout another limb I don't know about or something?"

"You look relatively okay," Draco sneered, "but you're acting like Loony Lovegood. And who is this 'Tom'? You've mentioned him before. I've been at this complex for a long time and I can tell you that there's not a Death Eater or trainee here named Tom. I don't think any of the women have named their babies Tom."

Ginny scoffed. "You talk as if being like Luna is a bad thing." Do I really sound crazy? That wasn't a friendly thing to think, Gin. "And I know that Tom isn't one of your… compatriots. He's more important than you could ever hope to be. He's even more important than Harry." Oh god. I can't believe I said that. That's horrid. Maybe something in my brain has gone fuzzy.

"So it's someone you love? Merlin, I know you were given special treatment at the start, but I didn't think the dark Lord would let you visit someone."

"I don't love Tom," she protested. "He's just important. That's all." Ginny felt like she was shrinking into a little ball. Before, she would never have let Malfoy irk her so. Looking up angrily with a scathing remark on her dry lips, she spotted a friendlier face. "Oh, Fred," she said. "How did you know where to find me?"

Draco looked around nervously. "Weasley, what are you playing at? Did you hit your head or something?"

Before Ginny could respond, Mona emerged from the throne room. "Malfoy, out of my way," she ordered stiffly. "He'll see you now, Gin- and he'll probably want to see you soon as well," she added sharply, glaring at Draco. Instead of looking for Draco's response, Ginny just murmured for Fred to tag along and followed Mona into the room made of oceanic marble.

 

 

Again, thanks to Mariemaia614 and Mithost for their expertise. I had no idea how to go about this; the initial number of days I kept Ginny locked up would have apparently caused a severe psychotic break. I chopped the number in half (more than, actually) so that the results would be simple but disturbing: compulsive behaviors and imaginary friends. Question: did I overuse these two things? I have a feeling that I did, but it's "psychologically" correct or whatever. Still, it's fiction and I have to know what works and what doesn't.

Thanks to the (many!) of you who reviewed. I try to respond to reviews individually, but I didn't get to do most of them this time around. I'll try for the next chapter, which is called "Truth" if I remember correctly. See you at T time!

(Get it? It was a pun.)

REVIEW PLZ


	20. T & U

Alphabet Soup

T&U

Truth & Consequences

As he lounged on his throne in the gigantic hall made of oceanic marble, Tom brought together his tapered fingers and narrowed his eyes. Was what Mona said true? Was his little Ginny Weasley falling into madness? A growl tore through his throat at the thought. He'd done his best to keep her safer than the rest; he'd waylaid Draco Malfoy when the brat had attempted to force himself on the girl; he'd given her a Christmas present. He had killed for her. It was one of the few murders he could call just. She was his confidante, loath as he was to admit it. He had never told anyone but her the secrets of his youth, cryptic though his answers may have been.

She was special, and now, if the story was true, she was broken.

Tom didn't like it when his toys were broken. He decided to instigate an investigation. First he'd have to talk with the subject.

He watched as his little Ginny was ushered into the extravagant room. She looked puzzled and murmured a few words to the empty air next to her. "No, no," he heard her say. "I promise. I don't think I've done anything to make him angry. I hope I haven't." Tom gestured subtly; she walked forward and stood rigidly before the dais. A feeble smile graced her lips but her eyes roved his face, looking for a tell.

"Typically people bow when they approach me," Tom stated. Ginny blinked and made mechanical movements as if even this small task was painful. "You're an exception." Ginny sighed in relief. Her muscles ached from lack of exercise. Those walks to and from the dining room were apparently enough to keep her relatively healthy. Her only movements had been from her bed to the toilet and back again for… how many days had it been? She looked to Fred for an answer, but he wasn't there. With a grand sweep of his arm, Tom dismissed his servants and sycophants from the room. He gazed upon Ginny's wan features with scrutiny. She didn't look well. Her eyes were empty. He cleared his throat and began his interrogation. "Ginevra," he began slowly, "how long were you kept in your room?" She shrugged. "A few days? A week?" he pressed.

"Two weeks, maybe," she replied hoarsely. "I'm not really sure."

"Do you know who gave the order to keep you in there for so long?"

"No," she replied. "I just heard the occasional sniggering and some jeers when I tried to get out."

"From men or women?"

"Men. Maybe only two or three. Why did you lock me up, Tom?" Her eyes glistened with tears. "What did I do wrong this time?"

"It wasn't me, little one, I swear to you." His voice was laced with poison. "You're an old friend- don't disagree. I have made it perfectly clear from the beginning that your punishments were only to come directly from me. When I find out…"

"Well, how should I know?" Ginny whispered.

"To whom are you speaking?" Tom demanded.

Ginny's brow furrowed. Was he taking the mickey? "Fred, of course. I want to thank you for giving him back to me. Genuinely, Tom," she said, "you don't know how much that meant to me. If only he could speak…"

Tom didn't know what to say. Every time he began to speak, he would clap his mouth shut almost immediately. She really was as doing as badly as he'd been told. He didn't want to exacerbate her condition; on the contrary. He wanted her whole again. After her isolation, he wasn't sure if that could happen. Maybe he could return some of her sanity, but he doubted that his little Gin would ever be completely well.

"Now, sweet Ginny, you must tell me everything you know. When did you start seeing- that is, when did Fred come to you?"

"A while ago. I don't know for certain," she said quickly. "Tom, can I ask you about something you said?" He nodded his approval. "You said that you didn't order my… isolation. Why was I kept in there? Didn't you know?"

He sighed heavily and raked a hand through his ebony locks. "No, I was out of the country. When I find out who betrayed me, Ginny, you can be certain that there will be hell to pay."

Ginny shook her head in disbelief. Shocked, she demanded, "Say that again." As an afterthought, she added, "Please."

"I said there will be hell to pay when I find out who committed this insubordination."

"Not that part," Ginny said quietly. Tom arched an eyebrow in question. "You called me 'Ginny'."

"It's your name," Tom answered irritably.

Ginny blushed and looked at the floor. "Obviously, but you've never called me 'Ginny' before. Even in the diary I was always 'little Ginny' or 'little one', 'sweet Ginny' or 'Ginevra'. It's strange to hear you just call me by my regular name, no adjectives or formalities."

Tom thought. She was right. He always patronized her, treated her like the eleven-year-old she hadn't been for so very long. She was a powerful witch, no doubt. A Pureblood with such talent should be treated with more respect than had been given her. He looked into her hollow eyes. Their gazes met; she looked away first.

"I'll… I'll find out who did this to you, Ginny. I'll weed out this traitor and deal with him most severely."

"You're going to kill him, aren't you?" Ginny whispered.

"Probably," Tom nodded. He heard her whimper. "He deserves it, little Ginny. Don't you want justice?"

She shuddered. "I- I don't want another d-death on my hands." Fat tears leaked down her cheeks.

"You've never killed anyone," Tom reminded her sternly. "I killed that man."

"But I asked you to do it!" Ginny sobbed. "I as good as killed him! I was the judge who sent him to execution!"

Tom's voice went cold. "You never judged anyone. I am the only one in the world with that power. Think what you will, but you don't have the ability to override my decisions. I would have killed him whether you wanted it or not. Don't overestimate your position in my court."

Ginny didn't miss the double meaning. She met his eyes again, this time with a cold dread building in her stomach. "Your court?"

"My royal court, yes." A smirk spread across his face. "You are looking at the most important man, the most influential man, in the entire world. I have it all now, and I don't just mean the continent. Asia, the Americas, Australia, and even the frozen wastelands of the South Pole. So dry your tears, little one. This was to be a day of celebration. We'll postpone the festivities until the one who locked you away is… chastised."

Ginny's stomach churned. She brought her hand to her mouth to stop the vomit threatening her throat. He's lying. He has to be lying. "My family…" she croaked. Don't let them be dead, don't let them be dead, please.

"Your family is fine, darling girl," Tom assured her. "They're living in Hertfordshire quite safely, with the exception of the two eldest. No, no, they're alive as well. One of them is in France with his wife and her family. The other is in Romania, still working with dragons. Does that make you feel better?"

She nodded, but two thoughts kept popping up in her mind. Harry and Hermione. So shocked and worried was she that she didn't even bother to attempt Occlumency when she felt Tom probing her mind.

"One is alive and one is dead," He said with a smile. "I'll leave you to ponder which is which. Ah!" he suddenly exclaimed. "Here comes my guest of honor. I had Mona retrieve the man in charge of the complex while I was gone. Sit next to me, Ginny, here on the dais. Lucius Malfoy, my slippery friend! Thank you for gracing us with your presence."

"I serve my Lord faithfully," Lucius said with a deep bow.

"I'm sure," Tom drawled. "We had an incident while I was in Mongolia, Lucius. I want to know how it happened on your watch."

"What was the problem, my Lord?" His voice was steady.

"Miss Weasley here was kept in confinement for what seems to be the duration of my absence. Were you aware?"

"No, my Lord," Lucius said. Behind the mask, Ginny heard his confidence slipping. "I had no idea"

"That's odd," Tom replied calmly. "I thought you more astute than that." His voice raised. "Did no one tell you that she was missing meals?" Louder, "Or did you think it funny to lock away someone you knew to be an important guest? I have no doubt that you knew, Lucius. I can read your thoughts; you may as well stop attempting Occlumency. I rule the entire world, Lucius Malfoy. I didn't accomplish that by being naïve." Louder still, "Did you honestly think that you could fool me? Did you not realize that someone loyal to me would tell me of your treachery, your threats to murder them if they let Ginevra out of her room?" Composed now, Tom continued in a whisper. "I confess that I was foolish to put any measure of trust in you. Now tell me why- and here's a fair warning: if you attempt to lie, to deny it, I'll not hesitate to kill you on the spot."

Ginny couldn't hear his reply.

"Louder, Lucius," Tom demanded. "I want it to echo off of the walls."

"My son," Lucius murmured.

"Louder, Malfoy!"

"My son! I did it for my son!" His masked face turned towards Ginny. "That little blood traitor denied him, Draco told me. She denied him for some upstart named Tom. I don't know a single Death Eater named Tom. My son comes from a long line of Purebloods on both sides of his family. He's a good-looking young man and she thought she was too good for him. They don't come any better than my son."

"I told you not to lie, Malfoy," Tom seethed dangerously. "I can hear it in your every word. You don't care that she rejected Draco. It's despicable that you would try to pin your actions on love for the boy. You're no worse than my own father was. I killed my father, as I'm sure you remember. Sweet Ginny doesn't want me to kill you; she said she'd feel guilty. Unfortunately for you, I don't hold her opinions above my own. Shall we have young Draco kill you? Shall I do it myself? No, I won't do it. I don't want to waste my time killing someone who betrayed me out of jealousy for a teenage girl. Go say goodbye to your son and whatever allies you have, though I am sure you have few," Tom ordered. "We won't be seeing one another again."

"But my Lord-" came Lucius's panicked voice.

"Pleading gets you nowhere. Get out of my sight." Slowly, ever so slowly, Malfoy left the throne room. Ginny heard him sniffling as he walked away.

Without thinking, Ginny threw herself onto Tom's lap and linked her arms around his neck, sobbing. "Oh, Tom, why? I hate him, I really do, but must he really die for what he did? I'm okay, and he can be just punished for disobeying you."

"You're less okay than you think," Tom said, disentangling the girl and setting her gently back on the floor. "And traitors must be dealt with swiftly and without remorse. If he lives, others will think he has power over me or they will try to get around the rules themselves. I cannot have it. Now, I have something for you. Mona is waiting in the hall. She has instructions for you."

Unctions

Ginny was trembling when she left the throne room. Mona embraced her tightly and let Ginny cry into her shoulder. Her mask dug painfully into Ginny, who let go as soon as she saw Fred in her peripheral vision.

"I have a few things for you," Mona said softly. "The first is permission to walk in the exercise area for a half hour. It's a rather nice day, so we'll want to take advantage of that. Also, the Dark Lord has assigned you two medical unctions to help you recover. This one-" she held up a pink bottle "-is to be put on your hands every night. It must not be washed off. It won't work otherwise. The other is to be rubbed on your temples when you wake and when you go to sleep. You are very lucky to have been given these medications, so take full advantage of them."

Ginny nodded in compliance.

After her first group meal in weeks and thirty minutes of supervised walking, jogging, and jumping jacks, Ginny returned to her room. "Don't forget to use your unctions," Mona sternly reminded her.

"Right," Ginny replied.

She pulled her pajamas over her head and grabbed the bottle of goo for her temples. She massaged it onto her skin gently and inhaled its heady mint scent. She smiled. "Well, Fred," she said, "let's see what this does." She looked around the room; Fred was gone. I hate it when he just vanishes like that.

She slathered the unction from the pink bottle onto her hands until it was deep into her skin. She got under her covers and snuggled in, falling asleep quickly. Tomorrow she would be up for breakfast and would maybe be able to talk to Luna.

She dreamed of Hogwarts that night. She was laughing with a vibrant Hermione near the lake. They splashed their feet a bit and lay in the sun. Small yellow flowers grew nearby. Hermione was telling her the genus and species of the plant plus its common uses. Ginny went over to pick them and they wove the flowers into crowns. A bee came over to the girls and landed on Ginny's flower ring. She swatted it; it stung her. The pain in the dream woke her. She needed to wash her hands.


	21. V

I could give you the reasons and excuses for this taking so long, but I'll spare you. Suffice it to say I've changed the ending entirely and have begun to re-write from this chapter on through Z.

~Warning~ While this story remains rated T, there is an interlude near the end that is somewhat suggestive. It's no big deal, really, but I thought I'd mention it just in case someone was like OH MY GOD WHERE DID THIS COME FROM? REPORT!

Alphabet Soup

V

Veritas

She did in fact speak with Luna the following morning. She spoke of her dreams, how beautiful and reminiscent they were, and how she hoped Hermione was actually somewhere- alive- making those flower garlands. Picking at the dead skin on her thumb, she gazed intently into Luna's eyes. "I miss it. I can remember it all like it was yesterday, but that's just it. Those times are yesterday, and yesterday's gone. It's like my whole life before this place was something of a dream. I feel like I need to have an actual today, not one day in a string of monotonous days. I need to look ahead and see a tomorrow or I fear I'll go mad."

Luna's bug-eyes stayed glued to Ginny's. They lacked the precocious luster that once danced within them. "I have strange dreams sometimes, too," she airily confessed. "Last night I dreamed a baboon was hanged by its own entrails. Quite disgusting, really, but one can't control one's dreams." She weaved her hands in and out of her blond locks, causing the hair to tangle horrendously. "It's no big deal," she said to Ginny when the latter tried to smooth the rough spots. "Who do we have to impress?"

Tom.

"No one, I suppose," Ginny sighed. But she wanted, she longed, to impress him. He was already pleased that she could do some Wandless magic. He took care of her. What could she do to repay him? Better herself. It would be difficult in these circumstances, but she'd have to try her best. Then she'd have to find him. That would be tricky, she decided, as his comings and goings weren't known to her. "We've got to look nice for our families, though," Ginny ventured. "They'll be sure to visit us soon."

Luna became uncharacteristically somber. She took Ginny by the shoulders and shook her. "No one's coming," she stated. "How long have we been here, after all? At first I was so optimistic. I thought Harry, Ron, and Hermione would come save the day like they always have before. When I got here, Neville was so full of that hope as well. We watched it slip away from him; that was almost as bad as seeing my mother die. The Dark Lord has no compassion. We're going to be used as brood mares and left to wither away." She silenced herself for a long moment and continued in her typical dreamy voice. "I should like to know how being a mother feels. I imagine it's very nice."

"If they let you keep your child," Ginny clarified. "One of the Patil twins came back… alone, if you recall. How you've escaped pregnancy so far is amazing."

"I could say the same for you, Gin," Luna said. "No one even makes advances toward you. That's very fortunate." The look in her eyes suggested a demand. Luna wanted to know her secret- how to escape the torturous touches of those vile men.

"I- I'm sorry, Luna," she choked. "I wish I could offer help, but I can't. I just got lucky, you see. Someone pitied me. That's all. Nothing else." She stared at her shoes, ashamed that she had misled her best friend, but she simply couldn't betray Tom. Even though this friendship may well have depended upon it, Ginny wouldn't betray her Tom.

Luna turned from her, arms crossed. The conversation was over. Tears pricked Ginny's hazel eyes. She heard a sniffle and knew that she wasn't the only one in heart-wrenching pain.

"Luna…"

"No, Ginny. Just stop talking. You won't say anything helpful."

"It's not won't, it's can't!"

"The Ginny I knew would have sacrificed anything to help a friend. This place will kill you, just like it killed Neville."

Ginny would not see Luna again for a very long time.

Veins

She sat crying bitterly cold tears on a stone bench in the exercise area. The sounds of voices speaking German and different Asian dialects did nothing to calm her. She wanted Luna's voice, and not the Luna who lived here, now. Old Loony Lovegood and her bright yellow dress at Bill's wedding, or reading magazines upside-down, or wearing that ridiculous lion hat- that's who she wanted. Luna had spoken of change in Ginny; it was obvious that the other girl had been transformed as well. Sighing, Ginny wrung her hands.

"Someone hasn't been following orders," came the now-familiar voice of Mona.

"Huh?"

"You haven't been using your unctions."

"Of course I have!" Ginny protested, standing up to face the woman in the mask. "I haven't seen my brother since I've been using that stuff. Strangely, I miss him, even though I know he wasn't real. I want to see that shade so badly, but I put that crap on my temples every night anyway. I'm doing something that hurts myself, so don't you dare tell me I'm doing something wrong."

"Touchy, touchy," Mona tsk'd. "I was referring to your hands. They look awful. You've been washing them before bed; I can tell. The Dark Lord gave you specific instructions. Now, if you don't follow them, both you and I will get in trouble. Angry as he's been lately, I don't want to irritate him."

"Angry? What's gone wrong?"

"Nothing he wants you to know about, dear. Ah, my faithful student approaches. Draco, what do you want?"

"Just a minute alone with the littlest Weasley," Draco sneered from beneath his hood.

"One minute, starting now." Mona turned and left.

Draco's eyes bore nothing but hatred for Ginny. They narrowed into slits as his nostrils flared and his lips thinned, all behind his grotesque mask. Cracking the knuckles of his balled fists, he began. "You killed my father."

Ginny's mouth fell open. "Pardon me?"

"You heard me, you little bitch. You killed my father. He was only trying to avenge me, you know, when he locked you up. You should have come with me when you had the chance."

"Get over it, Malfoy; that was months ago."

"He didn't want me humiliated, so he locked you in your tiny little room. I hear you went quite mad," he smirked. "But that isn't restitution enough. My dear mentor has given you antidotes for your mental issues. You'll be fine, but my father will still be dead. He was murdered because he gave you an entirely deserved punishment. He was Stunned and thrown into the sea."

Ginny gagged in horror at those words. How painful that must have been, possibly worse than torture. She tasted the sea air around her; it was thick enough on its own. Salt water was painful to swallow, and Lucius Malfoy would have had no chance whatsoever. He wouldn't even have had the capability to tread water. She choked on the thought.

"Malfoy!" came a shout from across the yard. "Time's up!"

"Just one more thing," Draco whispered. Quick as a flash, he held out his wand and Stupefied Ginny. "I did this to Potter once," he informed her as he punched her in the nose. A sickening crack resounded in her ears. "And now your pretty little face-"

"Crucio!"

"Ginny!"

"Finite!"

"Get her patched up immediately, and make sure she doesn't wash her damn hands."

"And Malfoy, my Lord?"

"Give him another thirty seconds or so. Pain of this type will be his reward- for now."

"No, Tom- don't let anybody else suffer on my account," Ginny begged. "Please. His father just died, all he did was hit me in the face; it hardly even hurts."

"That it hurts at all, my little Ginny," Tom replied, "guarantees this wretch pain. No one damages what is mine and gets away without severe restitution. He's extremely fortunate to still be breathing. Oh, yes. Finite. That infernal screaming was grating my nerves."

"Stop whimpering, idiot boy," Mona snapped. She not-so-gently nudged Malfoy with her foot. Somberly she addressed her Lord. "He's my responsibility, and his actions reflect my teaching abilities. I know I must be punished, my Lord, for his behavior."

"Do you like our Mona, Ginny? Do you enjoy her company?" Tom asked, staring still at Malfoy.

"…Yes," she responded hesitantly. Where is he going with this?

"Then we shall be lenient this time. If he misbehaves once more, I cannot guarantee leniency for either you or your sniveling charge. Are we clear?"

"Crystal, my Lord," Mona whispered.

"We'll leave the youngest- oh, but I've forgotten! We'll leave the only Malfoy in the hands of his dear auntie Bellatrix. She's particularly efficient at meting out justice. I wonder how she'll perform on her own kin…" Tom smiled wistfully and stared off into the distance. A chortle escaped his lips and he ruffled Ginny's hair in an almost affectionate manner. "Take him to Bellatrix, Mona, and clear the yard. We shall discuss your situation later."

The Death Eater bowed in deference and grabbed a still sniveling Draco by the ear. The thundering of feet leaving the park area went unnoticed.

The ensuing silence was pregnant. Tom held Ginny's gaze until she blushed and turned her attention to the ground. His eyes were so beautiful. His Boticelli face belied what lay beneath, and she couldn't stand him for it. Even as her own eyes were downcast, she could see his perfectly shined shoes, the hem of perfectly pressed robes. Perfect, all of him. So what if he occasionally tortured and maimed? He was there for her when no one else was. Luna had snubbed her, but not Tom. And who knew what else Malfoy would have done? It was preventative defense for someone he cared about.

What?

She hadn't felt him probe her mind, so she was a bit shocked when he lifted her chin gently and held one of her hands. "I care about what happens to you, my Ginny. Let's fix you up, make you beautiful again." She heard her nose slide back into place and felt the caked blood leave her face. "There now, much better."

His name was a whisper on her lips. How she wanted to press those lips to his again, to feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. Hesitantly she brought her free hand to gently brush a strand of hair out of his eyes. A flicker of a frown crossed his features, but she didn't notice. He took that hand and pressed it against the smooth skin of his face, a shockingly intimate gesture. She looked at him curiously, mouth slightly agape. She drew breath to ask a question, but he silenced her with a stern look. She tried to turn away, but he let go of her hand and gently turned her face back to his. It was a frightening thing, staring into the eyes of Tom Riddle. If eyes were truly windows to the soul, she mused, then his soul was the most wonderful thing in the universe. A soft smile caught her off guard. "I'm going to kiss you now, Ginny Weasley," he quietly announced. She nodded mutely and let her eyes flutter closed.

As kisses went, it was rather spectacular. His mouth was warm and inviting; his tongue tasted like tea and honey. His hands would themselves into her ginger hair and he tugged, eliciting a quiet squeak of pain from her. She stood on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him as tightly as she could. She never wanted to let him go. Sighing happily, she kissed him with a bit more force. Biting his bottom lip, she drew a moan from his throat. They soon found themselves leaning on a wall for support. Every few moments she would make the most delicious little noises in the back of her throat. His hands found their way to her waist and he tugged her closer still. A familiar sensation washed over Ginny. Warmth began to pool in her abdomen. It had been so long, and this was Tom, her first love and her savior. She clutched at his robes madly, trying to simultaneously kiss and breathe. He was panting heavily, his breath hot against her face. Suddenly she felt something she hadn't felt in a long time. She felt the hardness of a man pressing into her and smiled with satisfaction. Arousing a man made her feel powerful. She giggled against Tom's lips-

And he pushed her away. Her head hit the wall and she cried out in pain.

"Harlot," he spat venomously. "You've played this game before. Maybe you think you've achieved some sort of victory here, but let's get something straight. I'm in charge. I will initiate any contact, physical or otherwise. I kept you from Malfoy all those months ago for a reason. You belong to me in all ways. You-"

"I know that, Tom-" she interrupted, flushed.

"Shut up! You'll do as I say, and right now I'm telling you to never laugh at me again."

"But I didn't-"

"I've warned you against lying before," Tom seethed.

"I'm not- I only laughed because-"

"I don't want to hear it, Ginevra. Away with you, back to your room."

As she walked down the long hall, hot tears coursed down her cheeks. Why hadn't he let her finish? Looking into her mirror, she finished her sentence.

"I only laughed because I was happy."

 

Thanks to those of you who have reviewed at any time. Know what? You should review again, just for funsies. New folks should review as well. It spurs me on and generally makes me happy.


	22. W

So it's been far too long. I apologize, but life happened in a bad way for one of my dearest friends and I simply haven't been focused on my editing and posting. This chapter has been done for quite some time and I only did the final edits this week. Those edits included cutting a smut scene O_O The rating was gonna have to go up, so I had to change quite a bit. I'm sorry, smut lovers. I'm not great at writing smut anyway. I'm told I'm too "inhibited". Oh well. Please enjoy anyway ^^ Also, don't forget to review!

Alphabet Soup

W

Why She's Doing It

Ginny found herself alone in the crowd for the next two weeks. Luna still wasn't talking to her. In fact, she seemed to be pointedly ignoring her. Tom certainly wasn't paying her any attention. She never would have thought that the Dark Lord could be self-conscious. She kept to her own thoughts at mealtimes and in the exercise area. She reminisced about Neville, sweet Neville, whose attitude had fluctuated so. He'd been so desolate when she had arrived at the compound; later, his bravery got him killed. She didn't know what was worse- to give in to the hopelessness or to fight it. If she gave in, she might well begin seeing things again, she rationalized. If she fought, she could end up dead.

Gryffindors were made of stronger stuff than most. She would not give in and become as lively as an Inferius. Maybe she wouldn't put up an active fight, but Ginny would resist the temptation to sink within her sorrows. She resolved to speak with Luna at the next opportunity. Maybe it would go well and maybe it would be a disaster, but she'd never know unless she tried. Getting to Luna was, though seemingly simple, easier said than done.

It was like looking for a ghost. Sometimes she wasn't at meals. When she was, she would mostly simply push around the food on her plate. Lively Luna had become emaciated with a distended belly before Ginny knew it. Once she entered the plain dining room with a very clear slap mark across her face. She ate with fervor from then on. Ginny tried every day at breakfast to stop Luna at the door, but the petite blond would slink just out of reach and ignore every call.

The day finally came when Ginny cornered her friend. It was bright and warm, a perfect Spring day. The ocean's waves crashed lazily against the shore and the call of gulls resounded through the air. They almost sounded happy, Ginny thought. They're free. Luna sat with her back to Ginny, facing the green sea with her head cocked to the side and her hands folded in her lap serenely. Inhaling heavily, she approached Luna. Here goes nothing…

"Why have you been ignoring me?" she demanded. Luna stood, met Ginny's eyes for a brief second, and tried to step away. Ginny moved along with her and blocked her escape route. "I'm not going away until you tell me."

Bulging blue eyes filled with tears. "You don't know what it's like," Luna whispered, "to have them force themselves on you. I envy you that." Her tone was lilting, resigned. It was as if she had also given up hope. "You have this… friend, your Tom, to watch out for you. I'm jealous, Ginny. You have no idea how badly I want my own Tom."

"Trust me," Ginny snorted, "you don't want Tom. He's-"

"Keeping you safe from people like Yaxley," Luna interrupted. A tear slid down her cheek. "He hits me, you know, when I don't do as he says. I don't mind so much anymore; I'm used to it now…"

"Well, fight back!" Ginny said, aghast. "For every slap he gives you, give him two knees to the bollocks!"

"It's not that simple now, Ginny," she said, sighing. "I shouldn't be holding this against you. I know it isn't your fault. You don't want this for me. It's happened, though. He's got what the Dark Lord wants, so he can't knock me around for a bit."

Ginny shuddered with a cold anticipation. "What do you mean 'what the Dark Lord wants'?"

Luna sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. Another dirty tear made its way down her face. "A baby," she whispered.

Ginny gagged. "You're- he- without your consent? That's disgusting. When I see him, I'll hex him something awful! I'll- I'll-" and she began to choke on her own tears. "I'll talk to Tom, see if he can't make this right. I'll do something, I swear."

"There's nothing to be done," Luna hiccupped. "In five months I'm going to be a mom, and I won't have any say in how my little one is raised. I won't be able to tell him or her bedtime stories, or give them hugs, or anything that mothers are supposed to do. I don't have that right. I chose to side with Harry Potter, and now I'm paying the price for it. I still think Dumbledore was right about everything- this place is proof enough- but maybe if we hadn't ever printed that article, or if I'd never gotten out from the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, or a million other things, this wouldn't be happening."

As they both cried, they clung to one another. Ginny felt dually grateful for and hatred towards Tom. Yes, he did keep her safe, but he allowed Luna's situation to happen. Though she knew she'd be punished for it, she vowed to have words with Tom on the subject.

What They Did

"Will you deliver a message to him for me?" Ginny asked Mona one bright afternoon.

"What kind of message?" came the suspicious reply.

"The personal kind," Ginny replied smartly. "He's angry with me and I need to apologize. Since I can't exactly just waltz into his throne room- if he's even in the compound- I need another way to let him know I'm sorry. I'd like to write him a note and I'd appreciate it if you'd pass it along to him."

"If he's in a bad mood, he might hex me. Why should I take that risk?"

"Then wait until he's in a good mood. Or you could just tell him I'd like to speak with him. I'd appreciate it either way."

Mona sighed behind her mask. "Fine. Write a little letter. I'll give it to him if I feel like it."

"Understood."

I didn't laugh at you, I was just happy. Please don't ignore me anymore.

"Sounds kind of desperate," Mona said.

"I am kind of desperate," Ginny admitted. "I need someone to talk to, and my best friend isn't in the best shape right now…"

"Oh, yes. Yaxley's girl. I pity her situation."

"She's not 'Yaxley's Girl', she's Luna Lovegood and she doesn't deserve to be smacked about. I swear I've gone through every spell I can do without my wand to find something to use against him…"

"That would greatly displease the Dark Lord," Mona warned darkly.

"I don't care. I love Luna more than I fear him."

"That's a dangerous sentiment and a lie; both of us know it."

Ginny paused, twirling a bit of her hair. "I suppose I am rather afraid of him," she conceded, "but something has to be done for Luna."

"You'd best leave it alone."

"Probably, but I'm not going to. Warn me all you want, I'll see that man maimed."

"Honestly," the Death Eater said with a chuckle, "I don't think anyone would care if he was grievously injured. He's not Mr. Popularity among us either. Now I've got some errands to run. I'll take your note and give it to him- maybe."

Ginny simply nodded and hoped.

Her hope was not in vain. Tom was, in fact, in the compound that day, and in a surprisingly pleasant mood. As soon as she was escorted to him, she opened her mouth to question his borderline glee, but decided against it. If he was happy, he'd be more likely to listen, and that would make Luna's situation possibly better. Ginny cleared her throat a little to catch his eye.

"You've had my attention since you stepped foot in the room, pretty little Ginny. Pray, give your Lord your apology, then tell him what you really want to say."

"How did you know-"

"I always know, Ginny, or have you forgotten?"

"No, no," she lilted. "I just… It's a lot to say."

"Then begin."

"Well," Ginny started, "I want to say sorry. You misinterpreted- I mean, I incorrectly conveyed my feelings when… that time. I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"You didn't hurt my feelings," Tom sneered. "You pissed me off."

"That was blunt," Ginny chortled.

"We're past lies, Ginevra."

"I suppose we are," she agreed. After all, he'd taken control of her soul all those years ago and thus knew her better than anyone else, better than her own mother. "So I'll be blunt as well. I am sorry I made you angry, but I'm angry with you, too."

"Yaxley," he drawled.

"Yes, Yaxley. Why would you let him hit a girl?"

"He acts of his own accord. Violence against women isn't something I actively advocate."

"So make him stop."

"Are you asking or telling, dear?"

"Whichever will convince you."

"Clever, clever girl," Tom replied with a small smile. To Ginny's shock, it looked to be genuine. She'd only seen him genuinely smile twice; both times were in the Chamber of Secrets when she was dying. When he saw her paling and saw himself solidifying, he smiled for the first time in more than fifty years. When he heard Harry Potter enter the Chamber, he absolutely grinned. Ginny wondered why he was smiling now.

"What has you so happy?" she asked suspiciously.

"I'll show you tomorrow," he replied cryptically.

She mentally waved off the response. "Anyway, back to Yaxley. I wanted to ask if you would be willing to… punish him in some way."

"Do you want me to have someone else murdered for you?" he asked with mock serenity.

Immediately her eyes filled with tears. "Why would you bring that up?" she choked. "You know how it haunts me. You know I regret it."

"Do you?"

"I'm not sorry he's gone," Ginny sniffed, "but Neville would have wanted me to make another decision."

"So you'd kill for one friend but not another?"

"Stop that," she snapped. "Please" was thrown on as an afterthought. "Luna isn't dead; it's different."

"If that's true," Tom said with clear derision, "what would you have me do to one of my most loyal subjects?"

"Just… hex him or something. Not an Unforgivable-"

"-Under my rule, there are no more Unforgivables," he interrupted.

"Be that as it may," Ginny said, disgusted at this change, "I'd like him hurt, but just enough so that he knows not to hurt her again."

"He won't be hurting her for a while anyway," Tom reasoned.

"Yeah, because he raped her and knocked her up. That's no excuse for him to get away with anything."

There was a long silence as Tom considered her words. "I've heard your argument," he stated slowly, "and I will do as I see fit. That may mean I will do nothing. Yaxley has been faithful, while you fight me and Lovegood slanders me."

"You wouldn't like me if I didn't challenge you every once in a while," she dared.

"True," he acquiesced. "At any rate, I'll do what I think is best. You're dismissed."

What The Prophet Said, or, Why Tom Was Happy

Ginny woke to find a newspaper sitting on her desk. On it was a note. "As promised" was written in Tom's tidy scrawl. Frowning slightly, she began to read:

15 April

Harry Potter, Undesirable No. 1, has been taken to Azkaban to finish his prison term before his sentence is carried out. Readers will recall that Potter was captured several months ago and unanimously sentenced by Ministry Circuit Court Seven to a Dementor's Kiss. The Kiss is scheduled to take place one week from today. Senior Ministry officials are expected to attend. It is unclear whether the elusive Dark Lord will be there as well.

She began to cry.

 

So the next chapter is X & Y combined (iirc, it's called Xanthan and something about Yaxley). It's relatively short, so it shouldn't take long to do the final beta-ing/edits.

Click the button and review!


	23. X & Y

Like last time, I could give you excuses. Instead, I'll shut up and let you read.

Alphabet Soup

X & Y

Xanthan

He came to her the next day and held her as she cried. He didn't retaliate or spar with her when her sobs of "How could you?" became loud enough for others to hear. "He didn't do anything wrong," she kept repeating. "He just wanted to protect us, that's all…" He didn't care that she had a vice grip on his hands, or that she hiccupped in the most annoying way with every breath.

He didn't care because he had finally won. Harry Potter's soul was gone. He had come out of seclusion to see it. Death Eaters who hadn't been in any of his worldwide concentration camps were shocked by his appearance. The Dark Lord was so young! Was this truly Voldemort? Oh, he could prove it. "Hit me with Avada Kedavra," he'd challenged with bravado. "I won't so much as sneeze." And he hadn't. As three jets of green light hit him, he had simply smiled.

He smiled again in remembrance of his triumph. All of the continents were under his control. He had bases of operation all over the planet. Muggles were dying at the hands of dark wizards every day. He had eternal youth. All of his dreams had come true.

There was one dream, though, that he hadn't anticipated. It unsettled him when he thought about it. It made him feel weak. It made him feel… hated. It made him feel loved. It made him feel, something he didn't like to do. He should be cold and aloof always, he thought. He wasn't anymore, and it was all her fault. He wanted to hate her, but he simply couldn't. Perhaps it was because they had shared souls so long ago. Perhaps it was her spunky attitude and cautious optimism turned to cynicism. He didn't much care anymore. He felt something for her, but he had yet to determine what it was. He stood and extended a hand to her.

"Come here, Ginny," he commanded softly. Eyes wide and full of tears, she put her trembling hand in his. He helped her up, supported her weight as he led her through the halls of the complex to a room Ginny had never before seen.

He gestured for her to sit on a plush black sofa. It was comfortable; she grabbed a red throw pillow and cuddled it, crying still. She settled further into the soft down of the couch. "What am I doing here, Tom?" she asked shakily. But Tom was nowhere to be seen. "Tom?" she called. A flash of green light glowed under the door to the next room and Ginny flinched. The door cracked a bit. "I'll be right back. Get comfortable, take a nap, explore- I don't much care. I'll call for you when I'm done in here." He closed the door once more.

She took to admiring the books on the dark shelves. Many of them were in languages she didn't know; some were in alphabets she didn't know. She focused on the volumes lining lower shelves. Most of them were in English, though they all seemed dull. She picked one at random. "Rewind," she read aloud. It was dusty, falling apart, and had obviously seen quite a bit of use over the years. The corner of a page was turned down, marking what must have been something significant. Ginny opened the book to that page and began to scan the chapter. "Eternal youth?" she scoffed. "Well, it does sound like something Tom would be interested in." The margins were filled with notes. An eerie feeling came over her; it reminded her of Harry's Half-Blood Prince book. She slammed it shut and stuck it on the shelf quickly.

Harry.

She flopped back onto the giant sofa and covered herself with a readily available red wool blanket. Harry. She'd never see him again. She'd resigned herself to the possibility long ago, but now it was a harsh reality. His fate was one worse than death- that's what she'd always heard about the Kiss. Tears started to fall anew and she sniffled. She nearly didn't hear Tom when he called for her.

"Ginevra, come here." Ginny rose, walked across the room, and opened the door hiding Tom with a gentle nudge of her shoulder. "You're crying again. It's beginning to irritate me. Drink this." He thrust a potion bottle full of a shining turquoise liquid into her hands.

"W-what is it?"

"Just drink it."

"Not until you tell me what it is," Ginny said firmly.

"Don't make me force you," Tom replied dangerously.

Ginny sipped the liquid tentatively. It was saccharine and made her tongue tingle. She giggled a bit and downed the rest. "Now tell me what it was." She added 'please' as an afterthought.

"I call it Xanthan," he began. "It's a potion of my own invention, though I will admit that I was quite inspired by the book you picked up. You see," Tom drawled, "something is wrong, and I know you're a part of it."

Ginny blanched. "It was poison?"

Tom laughed. "The opposite, dear. 'Xanthan' is a synonym for health; I just extended your life span. You see, I've got to know what's wrong with me, and I need you around to give me the answers."

"You… extended my life? What information could I possibly have that would require more than a lifetime to extract? Come to think of it, why not just use Legilimency or your truth spell?"

"I thought you might want to thank me," Tom frowned.

"For what? For giving me a longer amount of time to stay in this prison? Now I'll have to watch my friends die. Why would I thank you for that?"

"Always ungrateful, little one. You won't be staying in the complex proper any longer. You'll be going with me to the other compounds so I can study you. I need to know what's so different about you."

"It's still prison," she spat. "My life will be a prison until I'm free to choose where I can go, and go there on my own, whenever I like. And if I'm different and making things go 'wrong', why don't you just isolate me again? I'll hallucinate and scrub myself raw, but I'll be out of your hair."

"Ginny, just shut up already," Tom sighed. "Your teenage angst is almost as irritating as your tears. I'll be taking you with me wherever I go; it's better than being locked in one place with, say, Malfoy and Yaxley, isn't it?"

Ginny crossed her arms and pouted. "Yes. Speaking of Yaxley-"

"He doesn't care about your friend anymore. He'll leave her alone for a while."

"Thank you," Ginny said softly, eyes on the floor. "Back to what you were saying before, though- what could I possibly know that could affect you?"

"Maybe it's something you do, Ginevra. I don't know yet. Now go take a nap; the potion causes extreme drowsiness. I've got to make more Xanthan. The bedroom is through there," he said, pointing to an ornately carved door.

"I'm not to go back to my own room?" she asked with mild surprise.

"No, you're going to mine."

"Yours? You want me to sleep in your bedroom?"

"Just do it," he said, rubbing his temples.

You Know You Made Me Love You

When she woke, he was laying next to her. She gasped, sat up, and promptly fell off of the bed. She heard a grumble.

"Do you often fall out of bed, Ginevra?"

"I'll just go… sleep on the couch," she stammered.

"Whatever," Tom yawned, "just don't wake me again."

"R-right." She crept through the doors leading back to Tom's living room silently and curled up on the couch. Hot tears flowed down her cheeks. What the hell was he playing at, sleeping beside her? Having her sleep in his bed? What on earth was happening? She felt violated somehow, as if his invasion of her personal space was more wicked than his excursions into her body and soul. Her fingers trembled as she wiped away the tears.

She didn't even know why she was crying. She knew she ought to be crying for Harry every minute of every day for the rest of her long, long life, but these tears were different. Ginny felt an ache remarkably similar to the kind one gets upon ending a relationship. But I didn't "break up" with Tom. If anything, we're closer than ever.

She pondered their relationship. Dysfunctional and perverse as it was, she was glad to have it in this place. Hell, she'd be glad for it outside this horrible place. He could be so kind to her, but he could also cut her heart to the quick. Every day she had looked forward to a possible meeting between them. Even her sporadic moments with Mona made her hopeful; perhaps she would hear tell of him. Oh, but he could be cruel. There was no question about that. He'd briefly starved her when she first was brought to the complex. He'd killed and made her feel responsible. Then again, she recalled, the burden of de Dannan's death was on her. She had chosen that punishment for him. Giving her that choice was the cruelest kindness Tom could have bestowed. So what was he? Twisted, handsome, unforgiving, caring, harsh, strong, vulnerable, and even sweet at times…

"My god," Ginny said aloud. "I love him."

She pinpointed the moment it began. "Okay, Tom…" That's when her crush began. But the love? Neville had brought that. After he died she had fallen to pieces, and Tom had been her strength.

She quietly sneaked through Tom's apartment back to the bedroom and climbed under the covers, smiling through those tears that wouldn't stop.

...and I think love is what his trouble is.

 

The end there was a recap on purpose. We've only got one chapter left! It's called "Zephyr" and is very short. Please review...


	24. Z

Alphabet Soup

Z

Zephyr

The winds of change buffeted Ginny around the world. As she circled the globe, she became more and more certain that Tom's issue with her was repressed love, or an attempt to squelch the stirrings of love.

In Borneo he let her put her small hand on his arm.

In Paris he let her lace their fingers atop the Arc de Triomph.

In New South Wales he let her rest her head against him.

While Apparating to Mexico City she hugged him tightly. He stiffened but did not push her away.

Yes, she deduced, he must love her. No one else had ever gotten this close to him physically, she determined, probably not even mad Bellatrix.

Ginny didn't bother to consider that physical closeness did not necessarily represent love. Tom used Legilimency on her frequently, and she put up no resistance. Surely no man in love would abuse that power over her.

Tom was no ordinary man, however. In Borneo he wondered why she was touching him. In Paris he wondered why she interrupted his recollections of victory by childishly taking his hand. In New South Wales he became annoyed that she would dare touch him so intimately. On the way to Mexico City, he realized that she was holding him with a more than friendly manner. He allowed physical closeness, encouraged it by not brushing her off, and perhaps even reveled in this foreign affection. No one had been affectionate towards him in his entire life save the mad Bellatrix, though her actions could just barely be qualified as affectionate; they were more fanatic and obsessive.

Was it his youthful face and body? Was it his own strange behavior towards Ginny?

They both wondered this while touring a camp in Brasilia. Ginny was beyond caring. She knew why she loved him, and she knew with one hundred percent certainty that he loved her back. He didn't know what he felt.

"Ginevra," he said to her one cloudy day in Ottawa, "Happy birthday." He lounged languidly on the dark green sofa and propped his feet on the coffee table.

Her eyes widened in shock. "It's my birthday? It's already August?"

"Yes, Ginny. Time passes, even for the immortal."

She frowned and remembered her last birthday. Ron was offering to get rid of lawn gnomes for just a few Sickles. Percy kept silent. Her only gift was from George- movie passes. Her mum had hand-baked a small cake from scratch to celebrate her coming of age. It had been her worst birthday ever. Now, though she was far from her family, she was content. She had Tom and she was seeing the world. While she would have loved to see her brothers and mother, she made due, happily.

"I have some pleasant news for you," he continued. She raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Your brother Bill and his wife are expecting." Ginny clapped her hands gleefully. She wondered with a surge of strong hope if Tom would let her see the baby once he or she was born. Biting her lip, she realized that it was highly unlikely. She looked at her feet. Tom probed her thoughts. Maybe, just maybe, if she was alive next year, Tom would let her see the tyke from a distance.

That was when he realized it. The problem wasn't with Ginny; it was with him. He was unused to the concept of love, no matter how often he experienced it vicariously through Ginny's thoughts. He felt something unusual at that moment, and a strong urge came over him. Gripping her shoulders tightly, he pulled her in for the most passionate kiss Ginny had ever received. She groaned into his mouth, surprised and ever so pleased. He was finally returning her love. As he continued to kiss her breathless, she noticed something. He was just going through the motions, trying to gauge her reactions. She fisted her hands in the front of his robes. He was probably looking at this from a scientific point of view. She was willing to bet that he hadn't even closed his eyes. Still, she made due. Sighing, she touched the tip of her tongue to his lips, probing him onwards. She climbed atop him, straddling him, and elicited a moan.

Suddenly, he pushed her. She landed in a heap on the floor. Confused, she looked up at him. "But I thought we were having fun…"

His pupils dilated, he stared her directly in the eye. "If we're going to rut like animals," he rasped, "we're going to do it in the proper place." He grabbed her hand roughly and pulled her up. She trailed him to the bedroom.

When she woke later, pressed against his naked back, she croaked his name. "Tom?" The only sound was soft snoring. Ginny grinned. What would the world think if they knew their Dark Lord snored and slept like a baby? She snickered and wound her fingers over and over in his mussed hair. Drowsily the smile left her face and she fell back into a happy sleep.

When he woke he put a kettle on. His hands shook as he accidentally added too much sugar. Okay, so Ginevra was pretty, pureblood, and the most quizzical creature he'd ever met. What precisely did that mean? What they had done was not lovemaking. It was far more primal, needy. He'd behaved like a horny teenager, not a man of his age and stature. Yet weren't women often considered the spoils of war? Yes, that was it. She was a trophy. Harry Potter's former girlfriend was now his lover. He smirked into his teacup. If only poor Harry was aware. It would kill him- his precious girl on the arm of the man who ended life as he knew it. He remembered watching Harry struggle as he was being held down, as his essence was removed ever so slowly…

"We should do that more often," Ginny said from the doorway, interrupting his thoughts. He gave a noncommittal grunt. Yes, they would do that more often. Overpowering her with his superior strength and stamina was a thing to be relished. Having Potter's woman was a victory in itself. That he enjoyed himself doing it, well, that was an added bonus.

"Possibly," he said flatly. "If you behave."

She just smiled and poured herself a cup of tea. Cocking her head to one side, she said the words that had been screaming in her brain for some time. "I love you, Tom."

"I know."

Then came the silence. Why wouldn't he say it back? She was absolutely certain that he loved her. He just showed it in the most physically intimate of ways. He told her secrets. He gave her gifts. He gave her a certain amount of power. But, she realized slowly, none of that necessarily proved love.

"And you don't love me?" she asked, voice trembling.

"No, I don't."

She hiccupped and laughed in a sad attempt to hide her tears. "Thank you for telling the truth… even though it hurts like a bitch."

"Yeah."

"Right," Ginny affirmed quietly, "But you still want to fuck?"

"Fuck? Sure. Make love? Never."

"I understand," she sniffled.

"You're disappointed," he sneered.

"Yes, I am. I'm not ashamed to admit it. I'm not afraid to say that I love you. I'll play by your rules; they're my only option. But I'll always hope that, even for a second, you love me back. I know you think you're incapable of love because you were conceived under a potion, but you're not. You just have to let yourself. Maybe it won't be me. Maybe it will be, oh, Narcissa Malfoy, anybody, really, but you have the capability. It's in all of us."

"Are you done being sanctimonious?"

"Yes."

"I want you to know something," Tom said darkly, "and I want you to listen well. I will never love you, or anyone for that matter. I don't know what it is you elicit in me, but it isn't love. I could kill you without a second thought. I might kill you in the morning. Who knows? The day I say 'I love you' will be the day I tell you the most painful lie you'll ever hear." He poured a bit of Xanthan into his tea.

"You're right; that would be the greatest way to hurt me, and I can only hope that you'll never do it. What is that stuff, anyway?" she asked, motioning to the potion bottle.

"More Xanthan."

"Yes, but what is it made of?"

"Life energy, pure and simple. When you kill someone, there's a moment when you actually see the light leaving their eyes. It's quite beautiful, really. After months of study, I discovered that if the blood of the victim of a magical death is taken from the body just at that moment, it has extraordinary properties. Think of it this way- If a man was 120 years old and destined to die naturally at 122 and I took his blood at that precise moment, I would get two years of life out of the Xanthan the blood made. If I kill a child, I get even more time. For every life I take, the longer I can live. If someone tries to use the killing curse on me, it wouldn't kill me. It would take the life energy of one of my victims, not my life. The more Xanthan I take, the more impossible it becomes to kill me."

"And how much have you taken?" Ginny asked breathlessly.

"You don't need to know that."

"How much did you give me?"

"About a hundred years. I told you before, I doubled your life. Someone could shoot you through the heart with a gun and you'd still have an entire life left."

"So you fed me… human blood?" she asked, disturbed.

"Too late to worry about it now," Tom replied with a shrug. "You can just forget all about Xanthan."

"Unless you make good on your threat to kill me," she ventured.

"Until I decide to kill you, yes."

She froze in fear. "Until?"

Tom just laughed. "I may never decide to kill you. I may decide that I like our little bedroom arrangement and sneak my potion into your food, keeping you young and alive for as long as I want. But don't get complacent."

"I wouldn't dare," Ginny declared truthfully.

"I'm done with this conversation. I've work to do," he said, resigned. "Go back to bed." Ginny nodded and headed towards the bedroom.

"Tom?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

He laughed in her face.

******THERE IS AN EPILOGUE COMING LATER THIS WEEK******

...and you will probably hate me after you read it...


	25. Epilogue

I know I said a week, but I rewrote it three times.

Alphabet Soup

Epilogue

M-U-M

Slurp.

P-E-R-C-Y

Slurp.

R-O-N

Slurp.

"Will you stop that infernal noise-making?" Tom snapped one late August evening.

"Sorry," Ginny snorted. "I can't eat soup without making noise. I think it's impossible."

"You just need to learn proper table manners," he retorted.

"Never needed them before," she sighed. "It may be a lost cause. You know what they say about old dogs and new tricks."

"You're not an animal, you're a witch, and manners aren't tricks. We'll have to get you up to snuff before the banquet, else I'm leaving you home."

"Banquet?" Ginny asked, arching an eyebrow. "What banquet?"

"My celebration for ruling the world. We got the Antarctic holdouts last week. I've finally done it. More than seventy years of work, and I've done it. The work was strenuous at times, but the end made the means worth it."

"Even when you accidentally made Harry a Horcrux and lost your powers?" she challenged.

"A minor setback," he said somewhat angrily. "Don't ruin this moment for me, Ginny."

"Sorry," she spat. "It was just a question."

D-A-D

She silently swallowed her soup. Tom gave her an approving smile.

"What are you doing in that bowl that's making it take you so long to eat? You're eating as slowly as a flobberworm."

"Flobberworms are disgusting," Ginny replied. "I like to spell the names of people I miss."

"Your dad?" Tom asked. She nodded sadly as an answer. "Fathers are overrated. I killed mine the first time I met him."

"Good for you," she said quietly. "If my dad hadn't been so wonderful… Well, I suppose I'd still miss him even if he was mediocre. You only get one, after all."

"Yeah," Tom replied acerbically. "Just one." He moved about the table to stand behind Ginny as she spelled

F-R-E-D

"Who's Fred?" he asked with a semblance of true curiosity. The name rang a bell.

"My brother," Ginny said, swirling the letters around and around, looking for new names to spell. "He's dead now. A wall fell on him during the battle at Hogwarts. There are worse ways to go, I suppose. I just hope it was quick." She sounded nonplussed, but Tom probed her thoughts. Her consciousness was focusing on the elder Malfoy, now deceased.

"What about him?" Tom inquired.

"I hate when you use Legilimency on me," she muttered. "I just want to know how he felt when he… you know. Did the fall do it, or was it drowning?"

"I couldn't say," Tom answered, "and I couldn't really care less. Honestly, Ginevra, you focus on the most unimportant things."

"My father was not unimportant!" came a snarl from the doorway. There stood Draco Malfoy, a red handprint staining his cheek. Ginny leapt from her chair and clung to Tom's arm.

"How did you get in here?" she demanded. Tom didn't speak.

"Nothing to say, big man?" Draco taunted. "You turned the Dark Lord against my father, you've been protecting this little chit from every terrifying splinter in this complex- and wherever else you've taken her. When she got here, she was under the Dark Lord's protection. How did someone like you, barely twenty, manage to finagle her out of his grasp?" He drew his wand and pointed it straight at Tom's chest. Smiling, Tom gently urged Ginny to sit again. Were they going to fight? Draco had made a big mistake coming there, Ginny knew. The handprint on his face was beginning to fade; now tear marks were visible running down his cheeks. The back of his robe was torn.

"You'll never get the honor of wearing a Death Eater's mask if you keep behaving this way," Tom said conversationally. "Where's your keeper, little ferret? Has she lost you? A miserable failure it seems, that one."

"Mona," Ginny insisted, "can't be expected to work miracles. No one could be expected to break him of his attitude."

"Stuff it, Weasley. Men are talking," Draco sneered. Suddenly he was jerked back by some unseen force.

"Crucio!" His cries of pain could be heard through many of the camp's corridors. "Watch your mouth, you useless lump! You don't know who you're dealing with."

Draco's prone form, worse for the wear, was shoved into the dining hall and pushed unceremoniously to the wall by the lady in question. "My Lord," rasped the woman, genuflecting. "I know I don't deserve forgiveness for his actions- I know I've failed you."

"You have indeed, Mona."

"And I know I must pay the price, my Lord-"

"Quite right."

"But I ask for the privilege of punishing my pupil before you enact your own punishment on me, my Lord."

"Why is she… Lord?" Draco croaked almost unintelligibly, hands fumbling at the seams of his robes.

"Obviously, and I'm sure even Ginny here has to agree," Tom began, "your punishments have not been effective. Ginny, dear, has Malfoy acted properly?"

"What Death Eater has?" she asked dryly in return. Tom answered her with a stern glare.

"No, I think I'll dole out all of the necessary punishments for misdeeds here. You're a loyal follower and have kept many secrets, the most important of all being my face, Mona. You shan't be punished too harshly. Now, Crucio!"

"Tom, no!" Ginny cried. As shrieks, screams, and moans filled the room, Ginny buried her head in Tom's chest, crying softly. "Stop it, stop it! She was kind to me!"

A strange gurgling noise began to emanate from Mona's throat.

"On my command!"

"I don't care! Please make it stop!"

And it stopped. Tom's wand was still pointed at Mona, but she had ceased to move. Ginny fell to her knees and began to choke on her sobs. "She's dead…" Ginny moaned. "By all that's holy, she's dead…"

"Not dead," Tom corrected stiffly, "merely knocked out from pain."

"Avada Kedavra!"

Ginny heard the most awful rushing noise in her ears as her head fell to the ground. She felt a fissure open in her skull, felt the blood become matted in her beautiful red hair. She'd heard the words, felt the pain in her chest. Shouldn't she be dead?

"Fatal mistake, Malfoy," she heard Tom say wryly. She heard a snap and an outcry.

"My wand!" Malfoy cried out. "But no matter," he smirked. "Your little pet is already dead."

"Dead? No, I think not. Did you think Lord Voldemort would not keep his confidante alive? Your Lord can have mercy. I'll admit, she didn't want the immortality, found it distasteful, a curse, even. The Dark Lord would hear none of it. Stand up, Ginevra."

"I'm hurt, Tom…" she whimpered. He glared at her. Her hands slipped in blood as she grasped for the chair to pull herself from the ground. Wobbling a bit and using the table for support, she stood tall.

"But there's no counter curse!" Malfoy exclaimed. He looked from Tom to Ginny to Mona and back again. "What the bleeding hell is going on here? Who are you? What are you?"

"I am Lord Voldemort, and I am immortal."

"My Lord…" Mona coughed from the ground. "He must die. You've… revealed yourself to him."

"Ginny," Tom said softly, "show him your power. Hurt him without a wand."

Not wanting to actually further injure the boy, she called out the first jinx she could think of. "Tarantallegra!"

"I won't go out without a fight!" Draco declared, flailing. He fell onto to Mona and grabbed the wand from her impotent hands. "I don't believe for a moment that you're the Dark Lord. Avada Kedavra!"

Tom laughed as the spell bounced off of him.

"You can't… you can't be Him!"

"Shut up now, before you dig yourself in deeper," Mona rasped. Sputum was dribbling from her lips and she looked rather pale. Her wand hand, useless, showed a tremor.

"He can't get in any deeper," Tom said calmly. "Mona was right; he must die now."

"Wait! I have something to say before you try to kill me!" Malfoy exclaimed, chest puffed out.

Twirling his wand idly in his left hand, Tom raised his eyebrows. "Try? Okay, I'll indulge you."

"Two things," he declared. "I can't kill you or Weasley, but can I kill my teacher? Let's find out. Avada-"

"No!" Ginny screamed. She covered her eyes.

"Accio wand," Tom drawled just in time. Malfoy glared daggers at his Lord, knelt down next to Mona. He felt around her neck. Tom watched with amused interest. Ginny was confused. What was he doing? Malfoy swiftly moved his hands in a circular jerking motion. A sickening crack echoed.

"Mortal," he muttered. "I should have done that ages ago."

Ginny staggered, head pounding, and fell forward onto the ornate table. She gave a dry heave and continued to gag.

"Item number two," Malfoy drawled confidently. "I can't kill Weasley, but can I injure her? Accio Mona's wand." Tom let the deceased woman's wand slip through his fingers and into Malfoy's.

"I don't know what you expect to do to a witch so powerful with only a primary education," Tom stated confidently.

"I learned this from Saint Potter," Malfoy said, pointing the wand at a trembling Ginny.

"I only had the one dose of Xanthan, Tom," she whispered. "My extra lifetime is gone."

"Don't worry, little one. He can't hurt you. Not with me here."

"How wrong you are, My Lord. Your arrogance is going to get her killed."

"On the off chance that you so much as harm a hair on her little head, you'll be dead before you can blink. If you don't harm her, as I suspect, you'll die anyway. On three, then."

One.

Two.

Three.

"Sectumsempra!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Malfoy fell over, dead, eyes rolled back in his head. His corpse lay next to that of Mona. The beautiful dining hall that was only an hour before serving a quiet meal for two lovers was now a graveyard. Tom smiled. "You see, Ginny? Everything worked out. Malfoy's dead and- oh, but he's injured you."

Ginny's chest was leaking blood. It flowed from her quickly and with sharp pains. "It hurts, Tom," she whispered meekly.

"It's alright, Ginny; we'll just staunch this." He ripped open the front of her robes and pressed dining napkins to the gash across her chest. "This isn't enough," he thought aloud. "Medics!" he called loudly. "I need medics immediately!"

"But it'll be okay, Tom," Ginny said with labored breathing. "You said he couldn't hurt me as long as you were with me. And you're with me."

"Yes, I'm right here…" He replied absent-mindedly. "Where are my bloody medics? No, Ginny, don't you dare! Don't close your eyes. I was never any good at Healing, but I'll give it a go until the professionals get their lazy…"

He didn't trust himself to free-hand this operation, so he pulled his wand from an inside pocket and began to recite incantations he thought he'd long forgotten.

"That's yew, isn't it?" Ginny murmured. "I was sitting under a yew tree when I said your name. Isn't that funny?"

"Yes, yes, very funny… Where are they?" He snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Open your eyes, Ginny. If you die, I'll kill every last Healer in this building, I swear to you."

"But I'm not going to die, am I Fred?" she said, looking somewhere over Tom's left shoulder.

"Here, My Lord, here!"

"That's a nasty wound…"

"…lost a lot of blood already…"

"It might take a miracle…"

Tom ran to the kitchen. He threw open the pantry, breathing hard, heart pounding. He began throwing out every bottle he could reach until he found the Xanthan. Maybe, just maybe it could work. He muscled past the Healers and began pouring bottle upon bottle of Xanthan on Ginny's wounds. "Work, damn it!"

Because what would he do without her? With whom would he speak? Mona had been companionable enough, but she was dead. There were plenty of sycophants who would certainly like to mold themselves into his newest confidante, but they hadn't been there. They hadn't been there for those feather-covered nights seven years prior. None of them had heard him drunkenly rant about his past and keep the secret. He had never kissed any of them, or been intimate with any of them. Oh, Bellatrix had been more than willing, but she just wasn't Ginny. The mouthy little brat couldn't die now, not from a stupid spell cast by a mediocre wizard.

"Your concoction seems to be helping a bit, My Lord…"

"What?"

"Hold my hand, Tom. Please." He did so. "Am I crazy again, Tom? I can see Fred. He wants me to take his hand. Tell me what to do."

"I… don't know what you should do. Just keep talking, I guess. Is that right?" he asked one of the medics. The man nodded in assent.

"The bleeding is slowing, but we need more blood-replenishing potion or she'll succumb. We need her conscious. Keeping her awake is a good idea, My Lord."

"Ginny? Talk to me, little one."

"Dad's here too now. He keeps waving for me. It's so bright… It hurts, Tom," she sobbed weakly.

"Don't go to your Dad or Fred. Stay here with me. You're going to be an aunt soon, remember? Isn't that worth living for?"

"Promise me something," she coughed. He nodded. "Promise me that Luna will get to stay with her baby. Don't take that from her."

"Only if you decide to live."

"It's out of my hands now, isn't it, Fred?"

"She's seizing!"

"More blood!"

"Lie to me, Tom Riddle! You lie to me right now!"

"What the devil are you talking about, woman?"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you love me. Then I can die happy." She shook ferociously; Tom had a hard time keeping her hand steady.

His piercing blue eyes peered into her rapidly dulling hazel ones. "I love you," he said.

"Now tell me it was the truth," she insisted, coughing more violently.

"I meant every word," he replied.

"I told you, Fred. I told you he loved… Oh, it hurts…"

"We were too late," one of the medics cursed. "My Lord, there's almost no chance…"

"Okay, Fred. Let me just…"

The room was filled with the sound of the Killing Curse flying.

Tom crouched beside the still-bleeding Ginny. Her eyes were almost closed and her breathing was uneven and heavy. "Tom, I love…"

He didn't shed a tear as he lay coins over her eyes. He almost regretted lying to her as she died. Almost. She had been a faithful companion and it had been her dying wish. It was only proper. He idly wondered if anyone had bothered to try to save his mother. Sighing, he surveyed the room. Its opulence was marred by the corpses of Mona, Malfoy, and half a dozen Healers. Then there was his little Ginny, so tiny in death. She and the others would have to be cleared out quickly so the hall could be prepared for the banquet.

"Only I can live forever," he murmured.

He sat in the chair next to his own- Ginny's chair. He peered into the now cold bowl of soup and rearranged the letters.

G-I-N

"Just me."

 

One of three endings.

The first ending had Gin and Tom sitting on a balcony a few years later watching Luna play with her children Apollo and Stella. Too happy of an ending for this couple, amirite?

The second ending had Tom kill Gin as an act of mercy because Malfoy had fatally injured her. I don't think Tom's really capable of mercy and there were other issues as well, so I rewrote it again.

This is what you got. A long Shakespearean death is needed once in a while.

Well, I hope you enjoyed. It was a long journey. You guys have stuck with this story through weekly updates, sporadic updates, monthly updates; through death and illness; through what was honestly the worst time in my life. The idea of leaving a story that so many people enjoyed unfinished bothered me, so I kept going. You all (and your HUNDREDS of reviews) kept me going, kept me inspired. Your ideas impacted the story more than you know. Even if I didn't personally respond to each review, please know that I cherish every one.

Even though this journey is at an end, I'd really like reviews. How was it as an overall piece? Would you read it again? Tell me the good, the bad, and the ugly so I may better myself as a writer.

I love you all, and thanks so much!


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